Ice-cold in Moscow

Take a look at this...

Purty, ain't it?

Note how the delicate branches seem to be encased in glass; it's the only remaining evidence of the freezing rain that engulfed Moscow a couple of weeks back, paralysing the city and shutting airports. Well, the only remaining evidence apart from the mirror-like surface of our front steps, the countless number of silver birch trees bent sideways at crazy angles (their fragile branches seem the most affected by the ice) and - most annoyingly -our car.

We missed the worst of the ice, thank heavens, being on holiday in the UK at the time, but I should have known that we wouldn't escape it's consequences entirely...

We arrived home late last night and at around 1.00pm today, I announced my intention to go to the supermarket, marching out into the snowy day (a balmy -6C) with high hopes of being back in 45 minutes.

And at around 1.40pm today after an epic confrontation with nature and an almost complete change of soaking wet clothes, I actually left home.

Because what looked from the house like an innocuous blanket of snow over the car was actually an innocuous blanket of snow... over a 3cm thick coat of ice. Over the locks, the lights, and crucially sealing the boot - where all our ice-clearing equipment is kept - fast shut. (Note to self: maybe not such a good idea to have only the one ice-scraper, kept in the car...) On the bright side however, once I managed to jimmy open the doors (great exercise for your upper arms, don't you know) and turn on the engine it wasn't that bad, since as the car warmed up a little I was able to simply lift great sheets of the stuff off it and toss them away.

Which was fun, in an Incredible Hulk, sort of way (once you got past the freezing and soaking wet gloves and ice crystals down the back of your neck, anyway).

And of course it does give me more ammunition to bring out in conversations with people back home when they complain about the dreadful weather they've been having. I plan on waiting until some hapless soul bleats about the terrible winter the UK has had (true, I know), and how it's been so cold, and then after listening to their tale of woe, bringing this experience and others like it out to trump them. I am put in mind here of that scene in Crocodile Dundee where he's confronted by a mugger brandishing a switchblade and says something along the lines of: 'Call that a knife? This is a knife...'

And because I'm nice like that, I have actually found a lego rework of that scene just in case you have no idea what I'm on about:

So let's get started. Come on, you first. Call that a heavy frost.....?