The thaw is almost complete and the world has become a soggier, boggier place.
The snow has caused almost as much arboreal damage as the storms in January. The drive down to the house is a rollercoaster ride of twists and turns, with fallen trees partially obscuring the road in many places, with others leaning over the track at ominous 45 degree angles. Branches scrape against the roof and windscreen of the car as I carefully weave my way between the foliage. Bastardly hazardous trees. I comfort myself with the knowledge that todays dangerous tree is tomorrows firewood.
It is not a smooth journey, but I make it. Finally, I am off the estate for the first time in four days. I am giddy with excitement. The world is big, colourful, busy. What shall I do? Where shall I go? How shall I celebrate my newfound freedom? I go mad and visit the library. In a frenzy of unrestrained travel-lust I go to the supermarket too. It is everything I dreamed of, and more.