What will happen when the sun finally comes out and the snow stops and the ice melts and the whole landscape is transformed into spring and stuff is blooming and farmers are running their gigantic combines up and down the long rows?

NEWYORKER: Indianapolis (Highway 74)

Residents of a remote Exmoor village, cut off by snow, claim they are "always the first to suffer" when it comes to the council's gritting service.

BBC: Parracombe in 1978