Father Frost

In an attempt to cheer us up, convince us that the typical Cottarton winter is not that bad after all, and to dissuade Amber and I from moving to southern France, our neighbour Anne Christie sent us these pictures from Russia. Father Frost is laying it on pretty thick there, but at least Russians have tractors and diggers when they need them, and don't have to rely on local councils for spreading grit. Their council taxes are also much lower than ours.















I guess I can fix the phone problem

















The readiness of the dreaded Russian army



















Here comes the plumber. Now where did you say you had a burst pipe?















Call this a highway?















Man, do I have to dig out this car?









Who left the car windows open?















Let's get this bus moving.




Let's count the strata. For how many years has this car been lost?
















Does it blow this hard at Cottarton?