Snow in Town . . . Less Than Picturesque

The last time the Beast from the East visited Suffolk was back in late February 2018. I remember it clearly as I live on a hill, on a residential street that never sees the gritters. Vexingly, early on the morning of the initial heavy snow I was one of the first residents who had to drive down the treacherous road on my way to a 7.45 am appointment for an MRI scan at the hospital. I had been grateful that I was parked facing down the hill. It was an unpleasant and tricky few minutes behind the wheel.

This time the Beast from the East has turned up courtesy of Storm Darcy. It arrived as I walked down early on Sunday morning to pop in to see my father and drop off his Sunday newspaper. The arrival of a snowstorm and the subsequent whitening of the town does unite the disparate untidiness of the urban view, but it could hardly be called picturesque.

Just beginning to snow.
St Clement’s Church, Star Lane, Ipswich.
Walking down Grimwade Street to the Waterfront.
Turning into Neptune Quay, Ipswich Waterfront.
That’s not fog in the distance, but snow.
View from my father’s flat as the snow sweeps in.

By the time I had walked back home my backyard was covered. I don’t consider it looks particularly picturesque either, and by Tuesday it simply looked comical.

My backyard Sunday morning left, Monday morning right and ‘peak snow’ by the end of Tuesday, beneath.

It’s now Thursday afternoon and still the temperature hasn’t risen above freezing today even though it’s sunshine and blue skies, but at least it isn’t as cold as Braemar’s -23 Centigrade!!!!

Technically it’s spring, but there’s been just a little winter snow!

Gates-to-Cemetery

When I moved to Ipswich last year my father and I went for a walk up to the Old Cemetery. It was summer and it was one of the year’s three hot days.

Sea-of-gravestonesMy goodness what a difference yesterday was to last August. ‘The Beast from the East’ has been blasting Siberian freezing air across the North Sea and mini blizzards have been whipping across the East of England.

Ipswich-Old-CemeteryDuring our summer visit, my father reminisced on attending the funeral of his grandfather in the Old Cemetery and as we strolled around he tried to work out in which of the pair of chapels the service had been held.

Chapel-in-blizzardIt looked very dramatic today in the fading light and bitter cold. The snow didn’t ease off and after 45 minutes my hands were so cold I could hardly hold my camera. (I know, I know, I should have some of those fancy Tech gloves, but at about £30 per pair it’s hardly worth it when we’ll probably get only three days of properly cold weather in a single year.) So back home it was, but fortunately that’s only now a few houses down from the cemetery gates.

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