Even the Wombles are mocking us now. Tonight's chapter was The Snow Womble: It was a really beautiful morning, with the sun just up and the snow almost blindingly white except where it was in the shadows, where it turned to deep blue.
I had been saving this book for our snow. I was ready for an un-white Christmas, and could happily console Jo. It always snows in January, I was thinking confidently. Ha!
So before winter is no longer with us, and given the profusion of hot cross buns and tulips in my local multi-huge national supermarket, I shall just have to offer you this now. I can no longer bear to look at the tantalising snowflake on the cover.
I must be clear. I am aforewarned by Angela's recent post. This book was given to me a whole snowy season ago, but it remains unread- it may be set in France but Mosse's deep caves are far too scary for me! So comment at your peril- one intrepid reader will be chosen next week. Bon courage- you might want to share some little anecdote of your snow with the poor snowless of the ironically frozen North!