And Lo, There Was Yet Another Blog Upon Us...

I present to you a poem, written by my goodly self whilst bored awaiting the delivery of an urgent package.

*Clears throat*

Outside, it is snowing,
   but inside, it is boring,
   and the snowman on the grass,
   is starting to look rather sad.
The heating is on,
   so inside is nice and warm,
   though the cupboards are bare mostly,
   except for a packet of rather dry muesli
I want to go out,
   for a sandwich I think,
   something with bacon, chicken,
   that comes wrapped-shrink
Boots are on their way, 
   but deliveries are slowed,
   been waiting all morning,
   but still no trucks have showed.
I cannot have another day of frozen tootsies,
   with slushy heels,
   inside my old broken bootsies,
   for fear my piggies will number less than when started.
So patient I sit,
   by the frosted window pane,
   wondering where my boots are,
   trapped out there somewhere in the snowy lanes.
My promised white wings of freedom,
   will soon show I hope,
   so sandwiches shall soon be mine,
   in a meal deal,
   purchased with a bottle of coke.
  
Upon completion of this poem and the publishing of this blog post, I should say that the boots have still to arrive. As such I am captive in my own home. I can't really blame anyone other than myself for that, due to a combination of previous poor quality shoe purchase decisions and an increase in shoe size making my delicious fur-lined snow boots obsolete since last winter (Seriously, at my age you would think your shoe size would be a safe bet, but no). No doubt it is a fool who designs their own prison without a means of escape, and today I shall be your fool, I hope you are entertained.

Since this white debacle started people have been posting pictures aplenty on facebook and I have yet to join in their fun. Mark my words, as soon as I get out of this place a plethora of pictures snow will descend from my camera and flickr account (Check the link in my profile if you haven't already :D) that will make the blizzard of 2001 (Or this years model if it supersedes it) look like a mere sprinkling of icing sugar upon a freshly baked cake.

I think I want cake now. Precious, precious, freshly baked cake...

It really would be rather nice if these boots were to show up soon as I would very much like to be out taking pictures. Grumble grumble.