The trouble with living this side of the Pennines is that the weather is , well, WEIRD. When I was a child and lived in Manchester, winter was winter with snow in January, Sring was Spring with cold nights, warmer days and rain, Summers were red hot and seem to last forever and Autumn was full of pea-super smog where every sound was deadened, visibility was reduced to about 5 feet and everybody with a "weak chest" was reduced to coughing their lungs up. We never saw a tree unless you went to the park, or a blade of grass either come to think of it.  We children used to call the park nearest to us "Chimney Pot Park" because it was set so high up it seemed to be on a level with the chimneypots, not it's real name of course but I never heard it called anything else in all my childhood. In the spring it was full of daffodils and in the summer the grass used to turn brown. My friends and I used to sit on the grass in summer, on a green patch if we could find one and pull the stalks up and suck the juices out of them. When I think of how many people had walked on the grass, how many dogs had pickled  and messed on it, all I can say is we must have the constitution of an Ox because we were never ill, ever.

      But over here, well, things are slightly different because every year on the 21st March, it snows. Sometimes a lot. sometimes a little, either way the weather always turns bitterly cold for a while before it starts to warm up again, weird. The wind has been so biting this year that even I have been cold working outside and have given it up for a cushier pastime indoors, and that's me, who can work outdoors in just a t-shirt in winter or on really bad days puts a jumper on as well. The cushy job indoors? Updating this space, the grandaughters were thrilled to bits with fluttering butterflies and fairy wings that moved and rain coming down so I thought I would do some more for them. I'm not saying that I am doing it for my pleasure as well (big kid that I am) but I will admit to enjoying it while I can