Apocalypse Snow   Leave a comment

In the bleak midwinter.

At lunchtime I ignored the Met Office’s advice (“abandon all hope, ye who exit here”), braved the sky’s payload of frigid, crystalline death, and went to the shop.

I didn’t panic-buy biscuits whilst I was there, which was risky, because – even with harsh rationing to 100 grams per day – my supplies will be exhausted in as little as three weeks. And that’s if you count Jaffa Cakes as biscuits, which I know is controversial.

My supply of baked beans will be exhausted at about the same time. Tea with milk (and fresh fruit and vegetables) shall be but a distant memory.

Once that happens, I’ll cook an emergency batch of shortbread (using ghee, or perhaps vegetable oil, instead of butter), pack the two out-of-date tins of mulligatawny soup that have been “saved” for the direst emergencies, and strap on my sword.

And set out across the desolate, frozen wastes.

In search of hobnobs.

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