There is every possibility though that if we make it out of Trelystan today even we won't make it back. A brief trip down to Welshpool in the pick-up is a hairy-scary ride on glassy roads - snow over ice. We are right to be fearful of the dreaded Leighton Bank - the road that gritters forget and where the sun never reaches. The Glam Ass is made of stern stuff and relishes a few slithers. Me? You know I'm an utter wimp and would have turned back long ago. Or is it more to do with men being the risk takers?
We reach Welshpool safely (hurrah!) and get the shopping. Gravity will take us downhill but will we be able to get enough traction to make the uphill journey? We come home via a different route which isn't too bad. Coming down our lane proves hazardous - which is why the afternoon sees Trelystan's gritting team (self and GA) raiding the grit heap and throwing said grit liberally on the sheet ice. Are we now part of the 'Big Society?
One of a flock of Field Fares looking fairly peeved in the morning's snow storm
Plenty to do -no time for sitting really. We have a 'bit of a do' on Sunday - will any of our guests be able to get here is the question?