A white morning

Woke up to snow, which of course fell silently. It made me remember the opening phrase from the Coleridge poem Frost at Midnight "The Frost performs its secret ministry".

It made the train ride seem like travelling through a different country. And the countryside looked lovely. I tried unsuccessfully to take some photos through the window.

Arriving in London the tube had been plunged into disarray after the inch or so of snow. It never used to be like that when I was a lad... etc.

There were no tubes from Victoria. Eventually one turned up and the morning walk through the graveyard was beautiful.

Work was fine too, and I received a bonus which was a nice surprise. Slipped out to lunch with Max the Mentor and ate a steak and ale pie, and had a fast post Christmas catch up. She said she got her daughter a karaoke machine but ended up singing on it herself all Christmas morning while her family complained about the groaning.

In the evening I avioded the worst of the commute, and chatted in the agency bar. Ended up going for a drink with Robbie and his new art director before arriving home to a Chinese takeaway, and a hot water bottled bed.