Ice, Ice, Baby
For reasons I won't bother to bore you with I had to reverse the car onto the drive when I got back from a little excursion into town yesterday. A fascinating piece of seemingly pointless trivia I'm sure you'll agree.
Well that apparently insignificant act meant, crucially, that the car was then facing away from the house, not towards it. So come the school run this morning the windscreen was completely iced over on the inside of the car, not just the outside.
Three cans of de-icer later the temperature gauge was showing minus 6 when we finally crawled off the drive. Only a very light dusting of snow had fallen overnight, but the traffic was bumper to bumper even though it wasn't quite 8am. Clearly nobody was using that little shortcut down the side road that they normally do.
The council have done their best, bless, with a thimble full of grit for each of the main roads in town. The woman in the Nissan Micra in front of me was clearly running late. So late in fact that she'd decided to dispense with trivia like de-icing so that her wing mirrors were completely obscured by the snow, as too was her rear numberplate. The kids contemplated getting out at the lights and making a snowman out of what was piled up on her bonnet, but sadly I didn't have any carrots on me.
Neither had she bothered to dust any of the 10 inches of snow from it's roof so that every time she went above 10 mph a delightful cascade of the white stuff hit passing pedestrians and my windscreen with equal aplomb.
I don't normally laugh when the car in front of me hits a bus, but on this occasion I thought I'd make an exception, although the kids thought that screaming "die you thoughtless b*tch" was a tad harsh. There you go, wit is completely lost on the youngsters of today.
Well that apparently insignificant act meant, crucially, that the car was then facing away from the house, not towards it. So come the school run this morning the windscreen was completely iced over on the inside of the car, not just the outside.
Three cans of de-icer later the temperature gauge was showing minus 6 when we finally crawled off the drive. Only a very light dusting of snow had fallen overnight, but the traffic was bumper to bumper even though it wasn't quite 8am. Clearly nobody was using that little shortcut down the side road that they normally do.
The council have done their best, bless, with a thimble full of grit for each of the main roads in town. The woman in the Nissan Micra in front of me was clearly running late. So late in fact that she'd decided to dispense with trivia like de-icing so that her wing mirrors were completely obscured by the snow, as too was her rear numberplate. The kids contemplated getting out at the lights and making a snowman out of what was piled up on her bonnet, but sadly I didn't have any carrots on me.
Neither had she bothered to dust any of the 10 inches of snow from it's roof so that every time she went above 10 mph a delightful cascade of the white stuff hit passing pedestrians and my windscreen with equal aplomb.
I don't normally laugh when the car in front of me hits a bus, but on this occasion I thought I'd make an exception, although the kids thought that screaming "die you thoughtless b*tch" was a tad harsh. There you go, wit is completely lost on the youngsters of today.