Sometimes it occurs to me I do actually have a purpose in life, I am possibly a fantastic example of what not to do. A fantastic Warning to Others. Really.. I mean here's a few lessons I learned yesterday.
No really. You can have them for free.
Lesson 1. Do not ever, never ever ever believe the weather forecast over the evidence of your own eyes. Look at me! Early yesterday morning whilst climbing over the snowbanks on either side of the main Cheesetown road, through the latest in what was one of our now regular blizzards, I continued to believe that we would have mild wintry showers, clearing later. All the snow was going to move south. Today all snow would be English Snow.
And just as well too, because I mean who much longer can anyone work from home? Chiz at this rate The Extremely Eminent and Respected Institute of Edinburgh is going to find out what a doddle my job is, and find a cheaper chimp to do it.
Except when I tried to buy a new weekly season ticket to Edinburgh my bus driver said
"Are you sure???"
Lesson 2. Your bus driver might know something you don't.
Four miles down the road it was clear that The Met Office might have been a bit economical with their adverse weather warnings. By the time I got to the Institute the Athens of the North had just become the Reykjavik of the South.
However Penny is not a woman to be easily panicked. through all the rumours "the trains have been cancelled! The M8's blocked! There's no bus services!" she continued to maintain that it would all just blow over.
Lesson 3. Your boss is not ever and never a meteorological expert. Not even if she works in the Met Office (see lesson 1 above)
At half 12 despite Penny's predictions, the snow had failed to blow over, melt and resolve itself into a dew. So we were Sent Home. All we could do was share cars. Which is how I came to share a car with Big D. The Institutes's most learned and senior Expert in Things Obscure.
Lesson 4 It pays to have a fund of small talk, because you never know when you're going to be stuck in a car with a Senior Member of Staff. For four hours.
For four hours (count them...) we inched slowly out of Edinburgh, with a couple of thousand other cars. At one point we spent no less than 40 minutes watching the traffic lights around the Gyle change from red to green and back to red again without moving a single inch.
After the first four hours it was dark. Between us Big D and I had agreed on the causes of the Banking Crisis, the futility of Fair Value Accounting and the likelihood of the stagnation of the economy failing a reformation of the banking regulations (Did I mention I am good at talking?) We'd agreed to disagree on the brilliance of Mad Men. sigh And from the traffic news it was becoming clear that the entire central belt of Scotland had had a total collapse of its traffic infrastructure .
Lesson 5. Sometimes you can be in the middle of a National Emergency and it is still boring.
This leads on to
Lesson 6. You can always walk.
Did I mention I'm good at walking? I can walk. Hell in these conditions I could walk faster than any other vehicle on the A80. I wished Big D well. He had to get to Glasgow, and on current calculations wasn't due to arrive there much before midnight. And he wished me well as I strode off into the dark and snowy wastes which were the fields behind the airport. Because I knew a shortcut back to Cheesetown. Ha! It's only 3 fields from the end of the runway. Which is why I also now know
Lesson 7. Walking alone over fields through in the dark is stupid.
It is stupid because it is dark and the only reason you can still see anything is because of the white glow that comes from the snow, which is freezing, and over the top of your wellies. And the white glow and the freezing fog make it scary.
Super scary. Scary enough that I have to rehearse my happy thoughts for the hour it takes me to cross over to the old mill.
Thoughts like "Well if anything does happen to me at least it'll be an interesting death. If any bastard does leap out the bushes, hes not getting the iPhone...If anything does happen The Cherub is well provided for ...
Lesson 8 Never underestimate the comfort of adequate Life Assurance.
I like to think that some sense in this somewhere, because I got home last night. Hundreds didn't.
Big D spent the night in his car somewhere on the M8. I like to think he had time to re-think his opinion of Mad Men.
7 December 2010 at 21:30
Ye Gods.
Lesson 6 really is a Scottish woman thing isn't it?
Glad you got home safe anyway. It looked really impressively awful even by Scots winter news standards.
7 December 2010 at 21:35
And there was me grumbling about having to take a trailer of pigs down to the ferry this morning.
Sit tight until it's all over. . . some time in March if the forecasts are to be believed.
8 December 2010 at 07:50
Mr Musgrove - Hmmm, not sure if lesson 6 is a Scottish WOMAN thing... The Proclaimers were always banging on about walking 500 miles too.
And they came from this neck of the woods too now I vome to think of it..
Malc - things must be bad when The North is worrying about us.
Now I'm worried about the pigs if they were heading south..
8 December 2010 at 14:49
Blimey, and I thought it was bad in Norn Iron. At least I'm getting to work and back in the usual time, mainly because I'm going against the commuter traffic. The other way is nose to tail for miles.
Indeed, the weather forecast these days is invariably shite. So I'd better top up my life assurance in case I get buried under a snowdrift that doesn't melt for a fortnight and nobody knows where I am.
9 December 2010 at 07:10
Jings! I suppose you just want it to go away now, as Len said about Ann Widdecomb.
9 December 2010 at 07:18
Nick - Yep, it's so bad we've got the ARMY in now, possibly with a spare regiment or two drafted in from NI.
Rog - Was it Len who compared Widdy to haemorrhoids? Each week more painful and irritating?
THAT's how I'm starting to feel about the snow.
9 December 2010 at 13:36
I've got my doubts that the weather forecasters get it right anywhere.
With flights being cancelled, I had the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court wanting to drive 200 miles with me---I jumped straight in and told him that he would have to tolerate me smoking in the car and by the time I dropped him home, I had dragged him down to my level.
He always says that he learnt more about himself in that 4 hours than any other time in his life
9 December 2010 at 19:06
We need to have a quiet word.
How am I supposed to whinge about the weather here in Norfolk (a few degrees below freezing, roads of glass, smattering of snow) if you tell everyone how really awful the cold weather can be?
*sigh*
(I'm glad you're home safe and sound in the warm)
9 December 2010 at 22:33
Nah, it's a woman thing. :)
In my experience the Scotsman will talk the talk then subside into waiting or else slope off to a pub. A Scotswoman would say: "Och away, it's only just over there" and off she'd go. (That's how we ended up walking to Queensferry one bleak January afternoon)
10 December 2010 at 20:09
Clyde - Sounds like a better road trip than mine! Swap you big D for a Chief Justice anydays...
Roses - Sorry...sorry...aw look, give up, we've got the ARMY out now!
Mr Musgrove - You've actually been in the general Cheesetown vicinity??? Why do I remember none of this?
11 December 2010 at 09:38
AND you've got men in uniform?!!!
*stomps off in a fury*
11 December 2010 at 11:07
Roses - Heroic YOUNG men in uniform! With spades. I'm especially appreciative of the spades..
11 December 2010 at 23:28
You'd make a fab Canadian, my dear. Both because #1 shows you possess levels of snow denial necessary to allow you to live in this godforsaken (for 6-8 months of the year) country and because you've actually compared snow to haemorrhoids, which is exactly the Canadian spirit.
We have this reputation in the world of being hardy souls who cheerfully put up with the privations of winter. Fact is, we hate the stuff with a passion.
Tho we do tend to point and laugh at folk who call in the army for something that will, eventually melt (see: snow denial).
Stay warm. As we like to say here: Spring is on its way!
14 December 2010 at 20:37
I live in a frigid part of Canada and I've done the "coworker in the car" thing more often than you can imagine, due to cold weather breakdowns. I'm always so terrified I'll betray my quiet work image with the real me and her potty mouth, that I invariably end up saying MORE bad words than if I hadn't been trying at all! So yes, small talk must be stored in the trunk of your car along with extra blankets and a flashlight. :)
14 December 2010 at 21:40
Barb - I give up! You had me at 6 - 8 months... my imagination is too small for the enormity of that...
Flipper - Hi! My Canadian contacts have trebled since the advent of SNOW...I have no idea how you cope over there... 6-8 months..
14 December 2010 at 22:14
It was many moons ago; the lady was from Perthshire and just saw the weather as a minor inconvenience in the pursuit of Marlborough Lights.
15 December 2010 at 19:29
Mr Musgrove - You know sometimes I think the medical establishment ignores the amount of beneficial fresh air and WALKS smokers have been getting since the advent of the smoking ban..
Hope Scotmid wasn't on it's half day closing when you got here!