Snow Boy at the Diabeatnik Club

Keeping the theme going here's me in the grounds of St George's Hospital this morning on my way to the Diabeatnik Club. What a huge nose and manic grin but I don't care. I *like* snow and I was being snowed on, so that's a good thing.

It was lovely to wake up this morning and know, from the glow behind the curtains, that the ground was white. The promised snow had arrived. And it was still falling as I sat here in the bay window nursing a cuppa and watching the big fat flakes drift down into the garden. I actually got ready to leave the house sooner than I needed to in case transport was up the spout due to the snow ... but really it was in case the snow stopped falling before I went outside. I take my opportunities to be snowed on very seriously.

Went to the Diabeatnik Club this morning because I've been having problems with one of my feet which my doctor said was nerve damage but the nice chiropodist at the Club said it wasn't, it's related to my back problems and she's referred me to a bio- mechanist (I kid you not). It sounds a bit sci-fi but it's all about how the body works and she thinks I've been compensating for my back by positioning my foot slightly differently when I stand and walk. Oooer. It's all so complicated, but I'd rather it was related to my back than to nerve damage - one can be put right but the other can't.

I got the tube to work and then decided to have a quick detour to St James's Park to see it in the snow. A bit disappointing that a lot of the snow had vanished by mid-day but here are a few photos anyway, including Buckingham Palace at the end of the lake and a cheeky little squirrel that came asking for nuts.

After work I decided I needed to go shopping for a new shirt for my evening out tomorrow. I wanted something I wouldn't normally wear, a sort of 'posh night out' shirt. I headed to John Lewis on Oxford Street only to find it's being refurbished and the menswear department is about one quarter of it's normal size. I found a lovely cream shirt with little blue/turquoise floral boquets scattered hither and thither over the cloth for an extortionate amount of money but thought, 'I *like* that'. Of course, they didn't have my size. My size is (ahem) chunky. Why do they produce these things in ultra-skinny-fit sizes only? It was a nice shirt too.

I remember having a lovely short-sleeved floral shirt in the '80s when I went to Egypt (it sticks in my memory because of taking photos from the roof of the Rameses Hilton in Cairo with the Pyramids in the distance). I loved that shirt. You tend not to get many floral shirts for men so they're memorable.

So I went along to Debenhams to see what they had and made a purchase. A Jasper Conran thing I wouldn't normally wear but it's got some stripey brightness going on and was cheaper than the floral shirt. Watch out for my new stylishness. On the other hand, I might just stick to a plain old checked shirt ...