It has been snowing here.

Yes, the UK does seem to grind to a complete full stop at the slightest flake, so you can imagine the chaos an all night blizzard caused.

I needed to go out to get some provisions, so I put on my best Hunter wellies and made my way tentatively to the car. Oh dear, the car window was open just enough for the elements to take full advantage overnight. There were frozen lakes on the seats and a snow drift over the steering column. Throw in Father Christmas and I give you an instant snow dome on wheels. To add insult to injury the car would not move, iced into the drive. I was getting a headache trying to master the automatic handbrake and traction control. Cars used to be simple.

Back indoors.

So all I had left in my weekly muddy organic vegetable box (sometimes I am sure they post apply the mud to add authenticity) were some hairy beetroot and a bit of limp looking salad. In my wisdom, I had learnt the hard way several years ago that raw beetroot are most unpleasant, and the ones the supermarkets package up for you have already been 'cooked'. So I set about boiling them.

What to drink? Only very average cheap red wine left, so mulling it was an option.

I discovered some 'Gourmet Mulling Syrup' containing goodness knows what. I added this to a cheap bottle of Grenache warming in a pan, along with some apple juice, sugar, cloves, sliced orange and brandy, all topped off with a stewed pot of breakfast tea. There would be no driving anywhere after a few sips of this rocket fuel. I felt distinctly like the Asterix character Getafix, preparing a magic potion. Frankly I was prepared to throw in anything within arms reach. The ingredients may sound a little odd to you (needs must), but that is nothing compared to what appeared to go into Oz Clarke's mulled wine in 'Oz and Hugh Drink To Christmas'. Sausage, chilli and even cigars.

My beetroot were ready. They had the appearance of steaming bison balls, most unappetising. I left them abandoned on the side while I prepared beans on toast with a side dish of grilled fish fingers. A classic 'get out of jail free' empty cupboard solution.

Warm wine in hand I turned on the TV. The best program of a bad bunch was a whole tedious hour about an exploding Sperm Whale on a street in Taiwan. That pretty much sums up television today. So I picked up a book and enjoyed my mulled wine with the salt ridden processed food, hoping one may combat the other and that I may remain in some sort of happy healthy equilibrium, fending off high blood pressure.

I felt great, and I needed to find a menhir to lift.

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