Why does snow falling affect us like it's a blessing on the Earth? I don't know. It's illogical. It's the liquid my body is made of, solidified with cold. It ought to be some kind of existential threat.
I don't think I'll go in to work today, I'll log in remotely. I'm sitting at my dining room table, with my cat sprawling over the Guardian I am Trying. To. Read. Which is why I am typing this instead. I haven't been to the gym all week, and I'm inclined to over-eat too in this weather.
But somehow snow feels like a lovely treat. I've got to go to a meeting at the Department in London tomorrow. See if it feels like a lovely treat then.
ETA - my cat is bored with being indoors, and he just shredded the Guardian Society section. I may have encouraged him a bit by rustling it about and saying 'bite it!'