Oh Jane, I am the most awful contributor to Views from my Window. I'm a day late, again, and I have no views. I was at work all day yesterday and this morning, and all sorts of everyone's ailments and homeworks (interchangeable though they might as well have been) proved too large a set of obstacles!
I would only have had your blah, blah, blah to show anyway. Instead of your blah blah beautiful snow, however, it would have been blah blah grey, cold, windy sky from bedroom window, blah blah gey, cold, windy sky from dining room, with all early blossom whipped from tree, blah blah (but monetheless still tidy) cold and windy back garden, and blah blah estate agent sign in garden with mysterious planks of wood strewn everywhere.
I can offer you in meagre recompense the view of my fridge. Note the two apparently insignificant swimming certificates, ink barely dry. This is not just another small strawberry achievement. This is not even another small strawberry achievement. This is the end, culmination, terminus, full stop, never to be repeated proof that I will no longer be spending whole afternoons in the sauna of a viewing gallery that overlooks Newtownabbey's swimming pool.