Hi snow scrapers.

The Press Council issued a status red warning after Storm Hack led to unseasonable accumulations of Morning Ireland (up at 6.30 this morning) and shortages of De Paper, whose decision to eschew its print version today may be informed by reports of legal grey areas around travelling to work in the snow.

Even before we'd eaten our way through the bread mountain (it's just beside the milk lake, near the candle stockpile) the Indo is already anticipating the cost of the clear up. Oh, and pretty well all news outlets have rolling coverage of every aspect of the weather and its impact.

No let up overseas either as a series of s***e storms descended on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue yesterday, leaving markets shivering at the prospect of a freeze in global trade relations. And heavy downpours of Brexit platitudes are forecast as yet another British minister (this time it's the 'prime' one) is set to set out her stall. 

In a related piece, the Irish Times carries Jonathan Freedland's analysis, first published in the Guardian yesterday, of Teresa May's negotiating strategy.

Meanwhile, it's reported that Italian pilots are set to follow their UK counterparts into a formal recognition deal with Ryanair.

Back home, employers may be forced to drop mandatory retirement ages, Dublin City council has sacked staff for absenteeism, and criticism will surely rain down on AIB as bankers' bonuses stage a comeback. Who could have forecast that?

Finally, a chilling poll from Engineers Ireland (haven't they got any power lines to repair?) puts trade union officials ninth out of ten professions when it comes to competence and public trust. 

There are lots of Zen-worthy snow poems, but none so good as this untypical offering from (probably) my favourite poet, Edward Thomas.

Now, get shovelling.

Bernard Harbor