Northern Ireland was hit by an unprecedented snow storm at the weekend. You wouldn't know from these photos... but I can assure you, it was. Compare it in your head to that film The Day after Tomorrow. It was so coul' I didn't even want to go out and photograph it. I hear it was even worse than the notorious snowfall of '63, which my parents and grandparents talk about with great fervor. Although we were snowed in most of the weekend, when we dug ourselves out of the driveway, and made the effort to drive 40 minutes down the road to my in-laws house, we discovered just how localised the snow was. There wasn't a pick in the country, as you can see. That's not to say it wasn't bitterly cold. Perhaps the coldest I have ever felt. Absolutely baltic! Jack was wrapped up warm in his trusty Zara puffa coat, H&M hat and mittens, and Aigle Perdrix wellingtons. Needless to say we didn't get too far before scuttling back to the blazing stove.
Below is a wee portrait I snapped of Jack when we were snowed in. He has the most infectious smile I have ever seen - And it warms the cockles of my heart to think that beam is especially for Mammy peeking out from behind the camera!