No snow pictures, because while England has been "blanketed in snow", we haven't had anything more than some unpleasant sleet, and don't look likely to get any either.
Not that I need snow to create chaos and danger. Invisible ice on an ungritted side road will do the job nicely. Now my legs are the same colour as my new tights (ie purple), and knitting will be somewhat limited until my shoulder starts moving smoothly again.
Meanwhile, Mills and Boon, purveyors of disposable romance novels to the masses, appear to be taking a Ronseal approach to titles these days (for those who haven't spent most of the last three decades watching ITV, Ronseal is a brand of varnish whose slogan is "does exactly what it says on the tin"). Where is the mystery, the poetry of love in "One Night with the Rebel Billionaire"? Although it has to be said, "The Prince's Waitress Wife" is strangely compelling as a title.