Icy Journeys

A Siberian snow queen’s fierce blast had temporarily dislodged polar Europa’s beastly 12-starred leaden mantle knocking the sprouted tyrant from the headlines even as she ground her hooves into John Bull’s crescent horns. Above and onto the dismal plumb clouds Helios shone as it always does but now its golden light cast only upon the outside of the heavy cloak that blighted Blighty. (Perfect weather for psychopaths and their nasty deeds, as you’ll see). Storm Emma, ‘Universal’, All that is, was charging in to cross swords with the dark pretender, snow and ice lay everywhere, it was freezing and the A and B roads detour to the M5 (44) were perilous slaloms. Dotted here and there I passed cars and a van half-buried in the trees and bushes.

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