Seriously Stinky Sprout

The snow, although glorious in it's crisp whiteness,turned out to be a little problematic. The car got stuck in the middle of the road, desperately trying to wheel uphill as we slowly slithered downhill instead. A neat turn on the way backwards and we were heading downhill but at least we could work with that... It also shuffled the train times a little. Fortunately, I had anticipated this late last night, and checked this morning. Good job too - we would have been 20 minutes late otherwise.

Mum made us sniff The Malevolent Sprout last night. For those readers whom are unfamiliar with The Sprout, it was originally brought into the house as a joke prize for a Christmas game with my siblings. Whomever lost had to eat the thing. It turns out The Sprout survived by discretely secreting itself somewhere in the house, and thus remained hidden for the best part of a year - until the new Dog found it.

This delightful artifact of Christmasses past is now lovingly secured in a small glass jar, beautifully preserved by its own fetidness. Needless to say, Dog loves it when the jar is opened for him to sniff.

We, on the otherhand, do not. I would say the scent is indescribable, but I'll have a damn good go. This shrivelled monstrosity is bizarrely sour and highly offensive to the olefactory senses, His Lordship described it as similar to "Bisto made with slurry." On consideration of the matter, I imagine that's likely to be accurate. We have decided this being of deeply offensive Christmas Evil must surely pulse with a vile green glow in the night, like some witches lantern of folk tales.

Turns out Himself and I have also broken the law. There's an obscure English law saying it's illegal to consume chocolate on a public conveyance. Well, if the chocolate is THIS good, it's worth it. This chocolate is the leftovers from the Place Names quiz that our team won. There were some great clues in there too: "Half of the Big Apple? York. "Opening of a pit? Minehead. Ancient pork? Oldham. Cook put to pasture? Sheffield."

We have seen two swans and one moorhen scooting across a frozen canal - until a heap of barges came ploughing through. I always wondered what a barge did in frozen weather. His Lordship was considering Barge life and has decided to fuel it, He'd go for Fission. Now, this is not to be confused with nuclear - this method is acheived by running a line into the water and patiently waiting to pull in some energy. I wonder if it will CATCH on?

Comment of the day: "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with SNUH. SNOW!" - little girl in a pink hat on the Sheffield Train. (Pic - red hat. It's a Christmas card from Mum.)