This was supposed to be a sweetness and light post about how it snowed here in South London, about how much the FB enjoyed putting on his wellies and stomping through the last few patches left as before it all melted; and how he loved making snowballs and throwing them a metre in front of him and then stomping on them on the pavement but..
On the way back from picking him up from nursery two men ran past us. One of them shouted something and the other, well the other had been seriously injured. The whole of his neck was bright red with blood. Behind them blue lights were flashing and crowds had formed to gawp at whatever had happened. What had happened I have no idea. I didn't want to hang about with the FB. I feel awful that he saw the injured man and that I didn't realise what was going on until they were too close to us for me to hide the FB's eyes.
When we came out of the supermarket 20 minutes later an ambulance was parked at the side of the High Street. I think they must have picked up the injured runner.
I don't want to live here any more. We'll be moving in the summer
PS more snow due tonight so cross fingers for a happier, fluffier post