Dispatches From The North

Tania Kindersley lives in the North East of Scotland with two amiable lab collie crosses and one very grumpy Gloucester Old Spot pig. She co-wrote Backwards In High Heels: The Impossible Art of Being Female, with Sarah Vine.

It’s just a little bit of snow

Posted by Tania Kindersley
Tania Kindersley
Tania Kindersley has not set their biography yet
User is currently offline
on Wednesday, 23 January 2013
I think this is the first proper big snow we’ve had for two years. It is a foot and a half now, and more gathers in the western sky like a mustering army. The roads that go up into the hills are all closed, and the village is empty and silent. One intrepid gentleman slides by on skies, pulling his small son behind him on a scarlet sled. According to the chemist, the only ones out and about are the old people. ‘Nothing stops them,’ she says, smiling.

Tania Kindersley snow

Those same doughty old people will tell you of the winters of their childhood, when they were snowed under for three months at a time. The Scottish weather has changed dramatically in the last forty years. The ski stations at the Lecht and Glenshee have had to rework their business models, because they can no longer rely on a full season of good powder. So even though we are over five hundred miles north of Hyde Park Corner, we don’t get this kind of severe weather very often any more.

Tania Kindersley snow

After four solid days, it gets a little wearing. I stomp through the drifts to take the horses their hay, and spend inordinate amounts of time dealing with the frozen water trough. The equines, who take the weather on the chin, watch in polite interest as I faff about with water bottles and buckets and urns. The snow means everything takes huge amounts of time. Even going down to the Co-op for bread and cheese is like an Antarctic expedition. This morning, it was so frigid that all the doors on the car were frozen shut, covered in a thick layer of frosted snow. I trudge about in my boots and gloves and hat, mildly grumpy, hoping that the power lines will not go down.

Stanley the Dog, on the other hand, thinks it is the most fun he has had since the old queen died. He romps and leaps and gambols in the white stuff like a puppy. I think I should take a leaf out of his book, and not grouse and grumble simply because the elements are not clement.

Tania Kindersley snow

It does have a powerful beauty. All the trees look like ice sculptures, and the distant wooded hills take on a misty aspect, as if they are something from an old water-colour painting. There is a great stillness about, as if the world has stopped, and the air smells clean and sharp, like metal. At night, when I take the dog out for his last walk, the whiteness means that the landscape is almost as bright as day. The snow clouds gather all the light from the street lamps in the village and spread it over the sky, so there is a diffused effect of low amber. It is very hard to describe, but it makes me catch my breath each time I see it.

Tania Kindersley snow
It is a time when I keenly appreciate the joys of being self-employed. My office is my house, so I do not have to get in the motor with spades and chocolate and prepare to be stuck on some snowy commute. I am all stocked up like a Montana survivalist and have made enough chicken soup to last for three more days. I have logs and candles and extra blankets, in case the electricity goes.

I wonder how the Nordics do it. They still have those old Scottish winters; what is weather shock to us is daily life to them. Come on, come on, I think; if the Scandinavians can do it, so can I. What about the great British virtues of stoicism and phlegm? I must summon up my Churchillian self, and fight them on the beaches. It’s just that occasionally, in my weaker moments, I do dream of sunshine. I can’t remember what warmth feels like or what green fields look like. My feet are permanently slightly damp, and I spend half the day with no feeling in my fingers. (This makes typing difficult.) Still, I must not complain. There is no bore worse than a weather bore. It’s just a little bit of snow. The sun will come again.
0 votes
  • Print

Recent posts

The last refuge of the scoundr...

Snow comes, stealthily, in the night. I stomp down through four white inches and dole out extra hay rations for the horses. They are amazingly warm an...

Forgot your password?
Click to read our digital edition

Boarders Dormitory Master-Mistress
We are looking to appoint a Dormitory Mistress/Master for 5 nights per week, weekday evenings and nights only, term time. (35 weeks). [...]


Housekeeper to Headmaster
We have an opportunity for an experienced live-out housekeeper. You will provide a cleaning and hospitality service for the Headmaster and his guests and help to ensure the household runs efficiently. [...]


Full Time Housekeeper, Nanny
We are looking for a full time, live-out housekeeper/nanny. We are a relaxed young couple living in a large country house, and will have one newborn baby. [...]


Experienced Carer, Companion, Housekeeper needed
Our elderly mother needs a live in carer/companion on a part time basis. Must be warm hearted, calm & compassionate, with a good sense of humour. [...]


Cook, Housekeeper wanted
Good cooking skills required to cater for light meals for the Principal and a small staff, as well as occasional lunch/dinner parties. [...]




What the stars have in store for you this week.2017

Capricorn Aquarius Pisces Aries Taurus Gemini Cancer Leo Virgo Libra Scorpio Sagittarius

Sign up to receive our weekly newsletter