Foreign readers may be puzzled by reports of a ‘blizzard‘ in the British press, often illustrated by pictures of cars on a road in snow so shallow that the edge of the pavement can clearly be seen.
This morning, I trudged through the knee-high drifts of wolves to bring you, from the mountains above Saffron Walden, a picture which sums up the stark terror facing this country. When next you try to understand the British attitude to snow, remember this
I hope you remembered to take your ice-axe with you and were wearing crampons…
This only adds to my growing conviction that Saffron is indeed one of those portals so beloved of skiffy writers, through which many strange and worrisome things shoulder their way in search of entertainment at our expense.
If I were an evil alien intelligence bent on infiltrating the of mankind (a theory I have not yet dismissed), I’d disguise my spaceship as just such a town. Draconian heritage laws would protect the true fabric from being uncovered, and behind the tasteful curtains all manner of horrors could be safely brewed.
R