Stuff Michael Meeks is doing

Up early, had breakfast. Overnight it snowed quite a bit, and the scenery is just beautiful - the snow blown against the trees so that from some angles they look like normal brown trees, but as you peer around them, suddenly this straight white edging appears with the sun gleaming off it. All the tiny twigs tripled in height by the accumulated snow, and the trees glistening.
Drove to the airport, lots of slidiness on the road, and extraordinary mist, about a metre thick floating above the ground in a band you can see below and above, interesting.
Checked in and said farewell to Tuomas and Miia - very kind hosts. Outside the ploughs clearing the runway, and people hosing off the aeroplanes from cherry pickers with hot salt water (I assume).
Got the plane, back to England, raining there and somehow the cold is damper and more penetrating. No one at home, and no J'. Played the guitar and worshiped to cheer myself up, fingers nicely numbed.
Looks like the file server has totally died, good grief, horrors, more wasted time. Phoned Stuart, best man for Matthew Powell, and ascertained that he didn't know if he could come to our wedding, bother, getting on well it seems though.
Dinner, watched some costrume drama with the parents, David Mansergh phoned, buying a house must let him know some dates.
Bed.