Heathrow was barely functioning in record breaking cold when I touched down after four months away. The weathermen said the worst was over, but it was still snowing when I got to Oxford.

Meanwhile the government has ordered a go-slow on rock salt use, because we’re running out. Oxford seems to have entered into the ban with great community spirit. There wasn’t a cleared pavement in sight.

Pedestrians made their way gingerly, some using ski poles for help. Others, like the tall woman who grabbed me and nearly brought me down as I later shuffled and slid to the shops, relied on fellow travellers to steady themselves.

I was jetlagged and felt unreasonably foreign as I puzzled over the choice of my evening’s and morning’s provisions, finally settling on bread, wine, tomatoes, avocado, rocket (arugula), the chorizo sausage I have been dreaming about, and, extravagantly, cherries flown in from Chile. I felt bad about the food miles, but I needed something that tasted of summer.

When I finished shopping my ex-husband drove me cautiously to Pangolin, the 62 foot long narrowboat where I now live. Pangolin “lies” (as they say) in rural Oxfordshire, about 9 miles north of the city. My usual route to the boat was impassable; a lorry had been stuck for days, blocking the road, but I was assured that the alternative way, through Kidlington and down Bunker’s Hill, was clear.

A friend had lit the coal fire, and though the boat was burgled while I was away (I knew that, and was expecting much worse than I found), and my car was covered in a snow drift and dead as a door nail, it still felt wonderful to be home again.

The next morning I took some pictures.

Looking north, towards the bridge:

Looking south, towards the lock, the Cherwell River, and Oxford. Part of the canal is still frozen.

My early visitors are lovely, but they are invariably grumpy, and never grateful for the bread I throw.

Outside the window

I gobbled my cherries as I looked out the window and remembered my towpath garden in late September when I had last seen it.