The Apocalypse is upon us - it has arrived in the form of winds that sound like runaway potato trucks and is accompanied by snow that blows in from all directions at once. And it's not even officially winter yet. I've consulted my legal tomes and it seems there is nothing that can be done to stop it. Apparently the laws of nature over-rule all other laws.
When the woman thrust us rudely outside it was merely windy. When she returned an hour later it was snowing heavily, with the result that we all had full body suits of snow. She let Jack and self back into the barn and gave us a mound of hay to soothe our weather-frazzled nerves. Doc and Molly got another pile of hay in the run-in but it was too late to put coats on either Jack or Doc because they were completely snow-encrusted. Fortunately Jack and I were able to double the time it took her to clean the barn. Jack kept pretending to have amnesia and walking into the tack room in search of food. I whittled the handles of the wheelbarrow and we both went in the horses stalls and rearranged their beds. We whinged a bit to see if she would give us our hot meal several hours early, but unfortunately failed in that endeavour.
She then let Doc and Molly inside and we were given further piles of hay. We slept and napped, repeated the process at leisure and soon it was time for our afternoon high tea. Finally, a hot meal was served at this version of Fawlty Towers and we got extra bedding. The wind continues to howl and hurl snow at the windows and Jack Frost, the lunatic graffiti "artist" has defaced every pane of glass. I might as well live in outer Mongolia.
The woman did leave the radio on for us, setting it on an all-Christmas music station. There is division in the barn as to what constitutes proper festive music but I will tell you about that later. For now I will post some photos that were taken today so you can see what I must endure for the next four months.