Snow Gruffalo

G loves The Gruffalo. For the uninitiated, it's an illustrated story by Julia Donaldson, which seems to fill the space in the consciousness of the nation's children previously occupied by The Very Hungry Caterpillar. It's G's bedtime story most nights.

Since she got it for Christmas, The Gruffalo has been joined in our household by the sequel, The Gruffalo's Child. The animated version which was shown on Christmas Day has been replayed often since in our household, and both the cartoon and the book are now accompanied by a running commentary from G now that she has learned what's coming next.

At one point in The Gruffalo's Child, you can see a snowman Gruffalo made by the mouse (stick with me on this). G delights in pointing and shouting "Snow Gwowoh!" whenever she spots it. So we took advantage of Saturday's snowfall to make her one of her own in the front yard. I don't think she really knew quite what to make of it, especially as it was taller than her. Proper snow fun might have to wait until next winter.

Through The Windowpane

It's been snowing a lot here in Saddleworth over the last couple of days. It's meant that me and G have been more or less stuck indoors, watching the landscape around gradually becoming whiter and whiter from the snug safety of our living room.

I couldn't resist taking her for a quick walk yesterday afternoon though. I went to the shed to get our off-road pram out, and got back to the front door to find G with her nose pressed against the glass, presumably wondering what I was doing. She seemed happy enough, but that was probably because she had no idea what I had in store for her:

When it snowed last winter and G was still a tiny baby, it was easy enough to cram her into a snowsuit and off we went. Now she's a lot bigger, and lot more fidgety, so making sure she's wrapped up as she should be is considerably trickier. Don't even ask about trying to get the wellies to stay on.

But eventually we made it out into the cold, and my off-road machine did us proud as I pushed G through the snow and down onto the canal towpath for a walk to Uppermill. She seemed happy enough although her face quickly started to glow red. Also glowing was the light of lamps from the odd house, and soon that was just about all that was visible in the murk as the daylight faded:

I imagine that scene hasn't changed all that much since the canal was built more than two centuries ago. In fact, with all the gloom and snow I thought it was all a bit Dickensian, like something out of A Christmas Carol. Although given how her parents and the rest of her family dote on her, I imagine G will have rather more stuff to enjoy this Christmas than poor old Tiny Tim did.

Wikipedia (and who could doubt the veracity of the information contained on that sage website) actually claims that the Tiny Tim character was based on the invalid son of a mill owner that Dickens knew in Manchester of all places. It's probably just a coincidence, but if I start seeing ghosts as we get closer to Christmas, I'll let you know.

First Steps

G finally took her first steps last night. At nearly 14 months she's a bit later than most babies in learning how to put one foot in front of the other. I think it's partly because she has got so good at crawling. She first managed to do that a full six months ago, so by now she's able to zip around the floor quite quickly on all fours. I suppose the desire to walk takes a little longer to kick in when you're already quite mobile.

I wasn't able to catch the actual moment of her first steps for posterity. But at least for me, grabbing a camera isn't the first thing I tend to think of when something magical like that happens. I did get the camera a bit later, but by then G had done enough walking for one day. In this picture she seems to be pondering what to do next. Maybe it'll be running. Or, if I'm really lucky, shovelling the snow off the drive. That's the kind of skill she really needs to learn.

A Cold Day

Here's G looking singularly unimpressed by a duck waddling past. I took this by the side of the River Colne in Marsden, after deciding it would be a good idea to drive over the top for a walk around the village. It's been one of those lovely winter days, mostly clear and sunny skies with a sprinkling of snow on the ground. We've had the odd mini-blizzard during the day, but we managed to get to Marsden and back without getting stranded.

Even though it's only a short distance away, Marsden seems to be much higher up than Dobcross, and it certainly seemed a lot colder today. Pushing G around I quickly found my hands going red and then numb, and she wasn't looking particularly warm either, so I called an early halt and stopped in at a coffee shop for a brew. It was selling some homemade ice cream, which seemed like an especially bold business decision in the middle of winter. I didn't try any.

Earlier, I went to the parent and baby group in the church hall in Dobcross. For the second week running I turned up with some homebaking to dish out in the form of millionaire's shortbread. This prompted some general discussion among the other mums along the lines of how I was putting them to shame. I can tell that if I keep bringing sweet treats every week, instead of becoming more popular (as you'd expect in, say, an office) it might actually have the opposite effect. Such are the paradoxes faced by the stay-at-home dad.

The group finishes with a little singsong for the kids (most of them are toddlers). Among the nursery rhymes I sang today, for the first time in at least 20 years, were Jack and Jill, The Grand Old Duke of York and Hickory Dickory Dock. G isn't old enough to join in yet, but when she is I hope she'll prefer something a bit trendier.

Graduation Day

Today was graduation day. Well, actually it wasn't graduation day at all. The graduation ceremony for the MA I finished in September actually took place before Christmas, but I didn't bother going because, frankly, the one graduation ceremony I've already been to in my life was more than enough. All that poncing around in silly robes and listening to dull speeches just isn't for me.

So we finally got round to having a subdued celebration this lunchtime. Mrs J took me out to the Marble Arch on Rochdale Road for a pint of their lovely homebrew beer and some lunch (I had a tasty bowl of game stew). There hasn't been any snow for three days but it's still all over the ground, and today was another beautifully clear and cold day. The winter sunshine was so pretty it almost took my mind off the struggle of heaving G's pram through and over all the ice and slush. Not that all the jiggling about bothered her, she lay quietly and dozed on and off the whole time. I don't know about an MA, but, and I realise this is tempting fate outrageously, G certainly deserves a prize for being so well-behaved lately.

I Never Love England More Than When Covered In Snow

Mrs J went back to work today. We agreed I'd take G down to the office to see her at lunchtime, which would give her something to look forward to if she found it a bit difficult leaving the wee one behind. But when we got up we found something a lot more exciting. It had snowed. A lot.

The picture above is the view from our flat window of the junction of Oldham Street and Dale Street, which is usually busy with plenty of buses. There wasn't much of that this morning though. A quick look at the terrace at the back of the flat demonstrated just how much snow had fallen overnight:

I'm from the north of Scotland so I'm used to a bit of snow, but I've never seen snow like this in the middle of a city like Manchester. Normally it's gone almost as soon as soon as it's fallen, but not today. Paying no attention whatsoever to those 'only go outside if it's really necessary' messages (snowy days are far too exciting to sit inside), I put G in her snowsuit and got her ready to go out:
Getting the pram through the snow was hard going. I thought I'd been sensible by putting a layer of thermals on, but a few minutes of trying to push G along the snowy pavements had me feeling pretty warm. Warm enough in fact to undo my coat, which got a few funny looks from what few passers-by there were.

Outside the Arndale Centre I saw some workers trying to clear the snow. Only they'd run out of grit, and it looked suspiciously like they were putting ordinary table salt on to the steps instead. I suppose it probably has the same effect, although if you discover the supermarkets have run out of Saxa then you'll know why. I pressed on and made it to Urbis for a coffee. Unsurprisingly, we were the only customers.

Afterwards we doubled back on ourselves, and I pushed G through the streets of the city centre. On a much-quieter-than-usual Market Street, people were waiting patiently for a tram, although there weren't many of those around either:

Eventually we made it to Mrs J's office, although G was fast asleep by this stage, and seemed far less excited about the reunion than her mum:

Perhaps when she realises that every day is now daddy-daughter day she might be less sanguine about the whole thing.

I decided to explore a bit more before taking G back home, and in Albert Square I happened upon a really big snowman that some people had built in front of the Town Hall. They'd even given him a penis, although I made sure I tastefully put the pram in front of it for this picture:

The Town Hall itself looked suitably wintry:

By now wishing someone would go on Dragon's Den with a snow plough attachment for prams, I pushed G back through the streets towards home. Being stuck in her snowsuit, G couldn't really move very much, so she just lay there and stared at me in silent contempt:

I thought I'd earned a treat for lunch so popped into Bread and Butter on Tib Street for a flatbread and (another) coffee. So ended our little adventure in the Manchester snow. It was surprisingly deep in places, although not bad enough to scupper our fun. However, I suspect the first time we get snowed in at our new home in Saddleworth it'll be a more serious business altogether.

(The title of this post comes from this song. I could have gone for this one, but I don't think it's aged terribly well.)