Size matters when it comes to snowfall
Snow at last! For a period there I was beginning to think we wouldn't get any this winter. But suddenly the fields are sparkling in the sun, the trees are resplendent with their white pencil lines and all is right in the world. Global warming hasn't truly screwed us over yet.
Not even my new Met Office app can wipe the schoolboyish grin off my face, with its propensity to give completely different forecasts depending on which iPhone you view it on. The other night Mrs Sheep sent me a screengrab (I know, get us!) of the 17:00 forecast for Llanyllanllan. Snow, snow and more snow the following morning. Just how was she supposed to get to Toni & Guy's in that?
Fear not, I told her, as I returned her text with a screengrab of my 17:00 forecast for Llanyllanllan. Sleet, cloud and a bit of drizzle.
At first I put it down to the fact that I was in the barn opposite the house at the time. Maybe the Met Office has an unseen algorithm (haven't got a clue what that word means, but these tech companies use it a lot) that divides our part of the world into Llanyllanllan North and Llanyllanllan South, and that we were walking the line of an easterly front. Or something.
I'd prove my point when I returned to the house and put our respective 'smart' phones side-by-side and checked the latest forecasts then.
But no. Still completely different. Not so smart after all.
The following morning it sleeted. And then snowed. Maybe the Met Office has an algorithm for hedging their bets.
What they wouldn't dare dip their toe into, however, is the amount of snow likely to land. And I don't blame them.
Ask anyone who's locality is experiencing snowfall and their estimation of the size of an inch seems to suffer a sudden inflation of Venezuelan proportions. They'll stick their gloved hand into the deep and crisp and even flakes on the car roof, see it reaches halfway up their hand (not their arm) and declare to anyone prepared to listen that: "Ooh, we've had six inches overnight. And it's still coming down."
And it's not just men, as you might expect. Many a disappointed woman seems to succumb to this aberration each winter as well.
By the way, we had a foot of the stuff, at least.
A mutton for punishment, Black Sheep welcomes all comments. Email firstname.lastname@example.org to air your points of view. You can also read Black Sheep in Welsh Border Life every month. And you can catch up with his latest outbursts on Twitter @onemanandhispen
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