When I woke to a light sprinkling of powder white, untouched snow, I couldn’t have imagined how the day ahead would turn out.
I had the usual 5.30 am freezing my ass of whilst I struggle to scrape the frost off my windscreen, and run up to Sheffield. This was to be my last trip, the final journey. No more commute up the monotonous M1, no more 50mile an hour speed restrictions, whoop.
The day panned out in the usual manner. A quick last-minute shop for forgotten christmas presents on my lunch and a meal at Homemade Burger Co. with Kay rounded off the working day nicely.
The doctors were waiting for me as I rolled up 5 minutes late to my appointment. I blamed it on the weather, little did they know that the roads where clear (for now). A consultation about missed jabs (too late now) and a prescription of two later and I was ready for the long sluggish drive home.
I had a change of mind. As my time here is limited and the car insurance runs out soon I decided to get in touch with an old flame.
3 hours later I was still nestled into my armchair toasting my feet in front of the crackling fire in the Phoenix. It wasnt untill we saw many a punter trudge through the door covered in pearly white snow that we thought it would probably be a wise idea to head home.
Problem… the snow had come down thick and fast whilst we had been putting the world to rights in th comfort of the pub. I didn’t even attempt to try to get my car out of the drift it had been encased in. Shaun braved it. The wheels span but the car did not budge. I got out, too scared of sliding into the hedge or worse still, another car. Thankfully there were many guys to get behind the car and push it to freedom. I jumped in and hoped the roads would be clear. Not so much….. they were as bad if not worse. A quick consultation into which route to take and we headed out on possibly the most treturous journey I’ve taken since the dreaded Bangkok to Siem Reap all those years ago.
I know very little of driving in such conditions. Traction? Wheel spins? ABS? I didn’t drive, I left that to Shaun. We crawled at no faster than 10 miles an hour. The hills around Sheffield were unforgiving. The moment we felt safe to put on the gas we would collide into the curb or skid across to the other side of the road. The junctions proved to be hazardous. There was no stopping the car, the breaks were redundant. Praying other cars would realise our fate and stop to let us by was our only hope. Thankfully on arrival to the junction at the bottom of one hill we were met by a 4X4, perfectly equipted with all the essential technology for these conditions, about the only time these Chelsea tractor drives have a purpose for their road beasts.
There was no way I was driving back to Nottingham on my own and no way Shaun could come with me. The only option was to say over in Sheffield.
Funny how things turn out. Fate is a mysterious thing.