Well, the train tracks may have been iced up, the trains stuck in the tunnels and the M20 reduced to a parking lot, but we found an excellent way to get to France, propelled by some of the finest mince pies on the planet.
There was nothing for it but to switch to the clearly posted signs for the Ferry and to dig deep into a Langham's breakfast on the ship before settling into the quiet comfort of the Club lounge. To be honest, it all passed so quickly that we nearly didn't have time to grab some Swiss Francs for later in the week.
As luck would have it, we were parked right by the front ramp from the ship, so we were first onto the road. After Calais, the French roads were decidedly quiet, with the main excitement being the occasional snowplough cutting a finely etched perimeter to the road surface.
And so we arrived. There was trauma amongst the ducks and swans. They'd had to up sticks and move to a remaining small pond of water in amongst the ice.
The drive was also rather snowy as the picture above suggests, and don't get me started on the moat. If anyone ever wanted to invade, just wait until the winter months to see the design defect in this particular form of defence. The idea of pouring hot water in to keep the moat defending just won't, well, hold water - even with a government grant. Stlll, the house has been here since the thirteenth century, so mustn't grumble.
Anyway, its time to draw the shutters for the evening, put another log on the fire and then maybe stroll along to the Orangery for a tipple and a nibble.
It's starting to feel a bit like Christmas.
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