The Beast from the East has blown its way across the British countryside, leaving thigh high snowdrifts barring paths and roads, and my workshop with iced buckets holding their few flowers in a cement-like grip. I’m normally crouched in my
The Beast from the East has blown its way across the British countryside, leaving thigh high snowdrifts barring paths and roads, and my workshop with iced buckets holding their few flowers in a cement-like grip. I’m normally crouched in my