Hiking and jackknifing

The snow is finally melting. We are now driving on actual tarmac rather than spinning around on half a foot of compressed snow and ice. I've never been so happy to drive unhindered in my life. No more digging my car out of a giant layers of snow or walking home to East Kilbride on the expressway. Well, not for the moment anyway.
On Monday night, after the biggest snowfall in decades, the expressway, the main dual carriageway into and out of the East Kilbride, had become near inpassable due to the weather.
Barry, Paul and myself walked home to East Kilbride, abandoning the cars in the work car park, hiking up the dual carriageway under a ghostly mist which hung down threateningly over the faded lights standing tall overhead in the darkness over the thick snow covered road, among the abandoned cars and the fellow walkers.
The road going into East Kilbride had been clogged up not only by the weather but by a Morrisons lorry jackknifing and the remaining traffic piling up behind, slowing to a near complete standstill. Not sure what was slowing all the outgoing traffic on the other side of the road up.
It may have been another jackknifed lorry. A Sainsburys one maybe. The two drivers having it out in the middle of the road. The abandoned cars all over the expressway only parked up to watch the big fight. Harry Hill shouting from behind a temporary desk in a nearby field.
Usually this dual carriageway would be buzzing with life. Traffic of all shapes and sizes blasting up and down it on either side. Hiking home on it all seemed very surreal. It reminded me of 'The Day After Tomorrow', the rather drab, silly movie with Dennis Quaid, in which he plays a climatologist who goes out in search of his son after a giant storm which throws the world into another ice age. Or something. Storms, snow, people collapsing in the snow. The collapsed people puffing and gasping, accidentally brushing some snow aside underneath them only to discover that their lying on the glass roof of central station. At which point it starts cracking...
Either that or a snowy version of 'The Day of the Dead'. Zombie like figures stumbling about the snow covered expressway wondering what to do.
It all puzzled me a little. We're on the expressway. That town over there, which you must of been driving towards with the high rise flats, is East Kilbride. These are legs. Those things at the end are feet. Why not try that walking thing?
Okay, there may have been the slight issue of abandoning your beloved motor, but it was either that or sitting in the beloved motor for an extremely long time which, in the end, would make it extremely unbeloved.
For instance, Ka hates Gillian's poor little car now as a result of sitting on a roundabout at Hamilton's Asda car park for at least three hours on the same night. Sitting anywhere near Hamilton's Asda is horrifying at the best of times what with all the Zombies that usually shop there.
Unfortunately I often find myself parking in Hamilton Asda, thanks to Ka who works in the town, and unfortunately I think my parked car has been hit by a 'fellow' shopper at least 50% of the time. Not because of my parking, you understand, but because most drivers in Hamilton, cannot drive nevermind park. They simply put their pedal down, turn the steering wheel and hope for the best. A seven year old in a dodgem would cause less damage to another vehicle than a Hamilton Asda shopper.
Anyway, thanks to the weather and the congested traffic the threat of having to spend the night at work became all too horrible to bear and Ka and Gillian sat it out, eventually getting home four and a half hours later than planned. It's amazing what folk will do in order to not spend the night at work.
It's also amazing what folk will do when not at work. Apparently there's folk going round in Kent somewhere nicking snowmen!

At it again

He's at it again! Ka and myself opened our eyes this morning only to hear the monotone groaning of our Sing Star Neighbour's voice yelling along to music again with some mates. What is it with this guy?!
Ka said that she'd heard him come home with friends at around 2am and they had been singing on and off ever since. Don't get me wrong. I don't mean to sound like a miserable old git who doesn't enjoy the occasional sing-a-long but this guy and his mates seem to make a worrying hobby of it. They're not even good singers. If I was waking up to Andrea Bocelli shaking the walls with his voice every morning I wouldn't mind so much as at least he can sing. We don't even recognise what the neighbour is singing now it's that bad. I'm amazed I had not woken up through the night. It must have been the paint fumes that knocked me out.
Yesterday I spent the day painting the bedroom walls and ceiling, freshening the place in time for springtime. Which is supposedly on it's way but by the looks of this weather it looks a bit far off yet.
Snow again? Jeez. I actually swore with dread on Tuesday morning when Ka opened the curtains to a newly restored white world. Once again I was faced with the winter battles of climbing the snow covered street in our rather stubborn car.
As I left on Wednesday morning our neighbour Kay was leaving her flat, in the next block up, with her two wee girls. Kay is a rather nice neighbour whose always full of smiles when you meet her, even though I have inadvertantly ignored her and her happy, waving kids on many occasions whilst being out and about. Though I'm not sure whether they'll be quite as friendly anymore.
Kay and her two sprogs were in the car before me as we made our way up the hill to leave the street. After a few moments of driving Kay's car slid and stuck and I sighed internally as I realized I'd be next. The Toyota kept going though (thankfully under my control and not some missing part) and I could barely believe I was still moving. Steering the car around Kay, who was waving from her front seat, I realised that if I slowed, or even stopped now it could be disasterous for my chances of getting up the hill. Assuming Kay's waving was as a greeting or a 'overtake me' wave I smiled and made sure I waved back as the car kept on climbing through the snow. It was only then it occured to me. Maybe Kay had been waving me down? Maybe she'd been wanting a shove? I knew my own car would go into it's usual sleety wheelspin if I was to stop on the hill, so after a few moments of weighing things up in my head, I kept going, leaving the neighbours in their small car behind me. I hope Kay didn't swear in front of her kiddies.

Relation onslaught

Christmas is over again. Back in the office feeling sleepy this morning after struggling to get out my street again. After a few beers last night I was dreading another hangover but woke up bright as a button, showered, slurped down a cup of tea and then headed out, feeling quite good in the bracing, ice cold air. Unfortunately the air was not the only thing that was icey. The snow which, has lasted longer than any previous snowfall I can remember, has now mostly turned to ice. The car was skidding around on the spot again trying to leave the street and Ka had to get out of bed and give me a hand, revving as I tried to shove the car over the icey patches. She came to my rescue in her polka dot dressing gown and a neighbour, whose missus was waiting to leave the street behind me, helped me shove the car into motion. As the car shunted forward into a normal form of movement I thought Ka was going to keep on driving at one point, not seeming to slow down as she got to the top of the hill. I thought her anger at being woken out of bed had finally sent her over the edge and she'd just keep on driving regardless. Leaving me and her cosey bed behind her and venturing out into the wintry world with only her polka dot dressing gown for comfort. Fortunately she did stop though and let me take the car on to work, leaving her at the top of the hill to go back to her bed. Hopefully she left the door on the snib.
We were in Mum and Dad's last night as they held a wee party for Christmas. When we were growing up the family would always gather on the Boxing Night, each adult volunteering their house to the relation onslaught every year. In more recent years this trend has slipped for whatever reason but Mum and Dad decided to have everyone over this year, just a little later than the usual Boxing Night. Most of the family gathered, driving up through the hills of snow to Chapelton and had a nice catch up, which included some snow shovelling, Ka and Kenny attempting to build a snowman, the traditional Christmas quiz, hosted by Dad, and the usual giant buffet prepared by Mum. Our team, the Troon Tortoises, ended up coming in last in the final quiz results, being narrowly pipped at the post to second place by Charlies Angels team. Lynsey Ann was on top form though remembering Scotland's last entry into a international tournament and all four Teletubbies among other answers to questions which left Tom, Mum and myself floundering. We still say Pluto was a pointer dog though and not a bloodhound.
This was all after a very sleepy Boxing Day in which Ka and myself sat through Christmas tv overload, too tired to do anything else after a late night on Christmas night. Suffering after the excesses of an excellent Christmas day hosted by Mum and Dad. Their dinner was fantastic, eleven of us round the table, wearing musical ties and fluffy halos. The pea and ham soup was a particular highlight along with the moments of madness including the lighting of the pudding and the fighting over the family china. All great moments which can only occur at family meals.
As i sit in the office I wonder when we'll be allowed out, since there is nothing to do. The sun is out now, so as the ice melts away hopefully some of this sleepiness will.

Who nicked my custard?

Snow is falling, all around us. Christmas is now in full swing. At least two inches of snow is lying on the ground, cars are skidding on the roads, the shops are still packed and we're all waking up bleary eyed with sore heads from the beer consumed the night before. This was the case yesterday anyway as I woke up feeling slightly under the weather, Ka jumping out of bed to begin the tidy up operation after our little party the night before. Unfortunately she had to wait a while before attempting the living room as Colin McG, Jillian and Kenny were still lounging around watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, either on the folded down futon or, in Kenny's case, across the couch, under a burgundy sleeping bag. As they shouted for pieces and sausage from Ka in the kitchen I rose and staggered through groaning. With every hangover I have as I get older the idea of giving up alcohol for life seems better and better. Life is too short to be wasting half days under a cloud of booze in the brain. But then you could argue the other way and say life is too short to sit at a Christmas party sober, worrying about the effects that a couple of beers will give you the next morning.
The party was pretty fun though with most folf arriving around half past eight. My brother turned up a little worse for wear after a work day out and was a little disgruntled when we forced him to drink at least four pints of water before being allowed any alcohol. He complained at first but when we all realised it was having the desired effect he did what he was told (though i suspect it was more fear of Ka that talked him into it). So Kenny shouted at Miley Cyrus on the advent calender, Chaz got slagged for his pink sweater, Colin McG nicked the custard, Chris had a power nap under the coats, a white wine spritza cured Heather of her food poisoning and Claire hummed to the music whilst listening to Gillian and her wedding plans. Most people seemed to enjoy themselves although we probably waited a little too long before starting the quiz, hastily prepared by myself in the afternoon. Apparently it was half past one at night by the time we started and as a result things got a little too loud and one person in particular got a little too irate forgetting the whole 'it's only for a laugh' theme that is supposed to run through these Christmas games. Everyone was too afraid to say anything though as the guy in question is a copper and he would probably have arrested someone the mood he was in.
The Christmas tunes along with the drinks were in full flow and those of us left in the flat didn't get to sleep till around 6 in the morning. Chaz was the last to leave after Clair and Martin, who ended up having to push their taxi into motion as it had ground to a halt in the snow on the upwards slope of the street outside.
A push I could have done with on Friday morning as the snow that had fallen on Thursday night had turned to ice and as a result transformed our street into a icey slide. I managed to drive the car half way up the street before it stopped and started spinning its wheels on the spot creating an unfortunate burning smell. I ended up gritting half the street on my lonesome with one of my Granpa's old spades using the grit bin positioned further down the hill, sliding as I worked, hands turning to ice. The South Lanarkshire Council have once again chosen to ignore most streets that are not bus routes and we have not had one grit lorry all weekend. Some of the main roads have not even been gritted or cleared of snow in the past few days making travel around East Kilbride slightly trecherous. Not the best when you've still got presents to buy.

Hell freezing over

Well, the whole of Britain woke up yesterday to snow. England panicked. Scotland sort of... shrugged. We all knew it was coming. The weathermen had forecast it. But still England seemed to panic. A whole three or four inches had fallen during the night in England, and around two in Scotland and by watching the English news you'd think another Ice Age had descended upon us. lf three or four inches of snow had hit us in Scotland overnight, we'd all have got up as usual and struggled into work, barely making the headlines. But when England gets it all hell breaks loose... or freezes over. There were news reporters standing on the banks of the Thames in yesterdays news telling us with serious, grim faces how this particular wall had over five inches of snow on top of it. Headlines, newspapers, the internet bulletins, all yelling about disasterous weather conditions, idiot drivers unable to cope, buses, trains and planes all ceasing transportation, electricity and gas supplies abruptly stopping, Boris Johnson pleading for more grit lorries like a very boring Bob Geldoff, schools and companies closing down, the shops of Oxford Street deserted and football transfers not being able to go ahead... in person. Unbelievable. The English get a wee bit of snow and suddenly think it's The Day After Tomorrow. Staying at home with the curtains drawn, the lights off, gripping their children tightly to their chest and praying for a miracle, thanking their lord for the great life they had led until those moments. My Aunt Ann, who live down in London sent me some pics via email of the wondorously uncommon snowfall in her area of Fulham. She was more excited than anything else. Anything to enable her to stay out of the office, I suspect. On getting out of work early, I also went out and took some pictures. Some of the women in the office were a bit panicky, of course. Let's face it, we all know what women drivers are like at the best of times (joke!).
On returning home I decided to park our car at the top of our hill, as we live on a steep street, and leave it in a safer place for the night, and a place that would be easy to manoeuvre out of in the morning if there had been more snowfall. Moments after parking, as I sauntered over the snow covered grass to our street, I heard a sudden squeal. Spinning round I froze, (not literally), as a BMW came down the hill, directly in front of my safely parked car. The BMW then started to drive at an alarmingly strange angle, it's rear heading straight for my freshly parked car's headlights. With a scrunch of ice and snow and a strange deathly silence the large car spun over the road in a 180 degree angle, nudging itself over the pavement infront of the Toyota but thankfully grinding to a rather unstable halt. Not being outwitted by some feeble snow, the BMW driver then decided to reverse determinedly half way down the street, as if to prove something to himself, the snow and any onlookers. After a few moments of pretending to be in complete control the driver hesitantly slowed to another, this time semi controlled, halt and performed a nice, sensible three point turn. (The only time you'll see 'nice' and 'sensible' in the same line as 'BMW driver' probably). If that BMW had slid any further, that would have been absolutely typical.
The snow is now gone, though, and we can all relax again. We did not get the predicted further foot of it during the night as forecast. A lot of scaremongering weathermen, if you ask me. Bring back Michael Fish, he used to tell you when things were definately not going to happen, but actually would. It's far more exciting that way. These new guys tell us whats going to happen, and it doesn't. Mr Fish would never have done that. He would have just came on and denied everything and then it would all have been a pleasant surprise in the morning for us all to wake up to.
"Oh, look everyone, it's been snowing... and there's a , er, BMW encased in my car bonnet... Quick call Jackie Bird!"