Moose Country Minute – March 10 2018

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I got an email the other day from my former next-door-neighbour in London, England, filling me in on the massive winter storm in the United Kingdom and Europe which had been nicknamed the Beast from the East.

I was based in England for three years back in the early 1990s, and Clive and I have remained fast friends.

He’s as English as English comes.

When he came with his wife, Annie, to visit us one summer on Baptiste Lake, he refused to wear a ball cap because it was too low brow, and instead when to the Steadman’s and bought a dust-covered trilby that had likely been sitting on the rack for decades.

Clive’s language and articulation is so precise he could very well have been a top presenter on the BBC.

Instead, he became an architect, a successful one.

The language he used to describe the Beast from the East was so-Clive and so brilliant, and because I could hear his voice in my mind, I found myself laughing out loud.

Catastrophic was one word he used. Belligerently fierce was another phrase he used.

When I lived there, the daffodils were already out by the first week of March. Compared to winters in Canada, it was like living in the south of France.

Snow tires in London? There is no such thing. Screens on windows? No such thing. Few flies, no mosquitoes.

And no one, and I mean no one, would ever think of going down to the DIY store to buy a snow shovel.

It took me three weeks, and a drive out of London, to track down a barbeque, And it cost a fortune.

As for snow, I never saw a single flake in three years.