I am getting news from my local Big Sis (aka Perpetua of Perpetually In Transit, on Blogger) in dribs and drabs via e-mail and in posts and comments on here. She and her DH have been snowed up for just shy of a fortnight in their country fastness (extremely fast fastness, at present) which is an old farmhouse and collection of outbuildings and a barn on the side of a proper big Welsh hill about five miles away. A thousand or so feet above sea level.
I have another Big Sis who is even taller than Perpetua, but she and her DH are city dwellers well to the south and west of here. So they (as we are we, much lower down in mid-Wales, at about 700 feet) aren't currently bothered by heaped-up drifts blocking their only lane out to the land of other people.
Rural Big Sis, however, is so bothered, and - as a consequence - still marooned. As she is retired, and so is the DH (they will both turn 67 in 2013) and neither of them has an urgent appointment anywhere, they have been content to sit tight, sit it out, and work their way through the contents of their chest freezers. Until such time as the thaw and snowmelt arrives to free them and their car (and so reunite them with what some people are pleased to call civilisation, but what I normally just refer to as SHOPS).
A fortnight is an awful long time to be snowed up. Even if you have litres of the stuff on standby in a freezer, one can get very close to running out of milk. This, to a Brit in Britain is tantamount to crisis, as in any crisis a Brit needs TEA, and the tea needs milk, and that is all there is to it. A cultural and societal norm. The battle of Britain was won on tea, the Blitz was endured on tea. And the tea must have milk, and maybe also sugar. Lemon won't hack it. WE can't hack it, not without milk for tea.
So I am relieved to learn today that Tesco, like the cavalry, has been sent for, and a van delivery will arrive after the weekend at the top of their very long still snow-blocked lane. They will reconnoitre with the van driver, and bring the bags and boxes down via wheelbarrow, they think, along the side of the lane where the drifts aren't quite so high, presumably. Drifts frozen like concrete. Two-week old drifts. Snow that fell a fortnight ago. With no postal deliveries since, no visitors, and no trips out.
Chez Goldenoldenlady we were inconvenienced for one day only, just five miles away and three hundred or so feet lower down, by very different snow on the same day.
Makes you think, eh?