◆ PARALLAX

You lot are all mad. Though I do love you all for trying. I have been called a night owl by two nephews and no one offered the usual cure of coffee, so I made tea as I always do and stayed up with a book while the snow thickened outside the kitchen window. It is a proper Norfolk drift, all white quiet and the kind that makes the lane look kinder than it is in daylight.

I am no grand witness to mysteries this morning, only a grandmother who has had two mugs of tea, a bowl of porridge, and one very dramatic argument over whether the retired greyhound Mabel likes her blanket folded once or twice. She chose twice. There may be a cup of tea later, then I shall put on a black-and-white comfort film and see if anyone else has a quiet evening planned. Not much to do in bad weather except sit, knit, and pretend that the crack in the window frame is a feature of Victorian architecture.

What are you all up to? I hear some of you may brave buses, some may write essays, some may be home with children and damp socks at the door. If the roads are passable, I might walk as far as the post box before lunch. If not, I shall read one of the old mysteries and pretend it is a snowstorm in the mountains. Stay warm, and if you make soup, add a little parsley and let me know if it turns out right.