Tuesday, December 02, 2008


This poor plant is wondering why it's so damned cold. I can't imagine passion flowers are overly used to the ice.
And why is it that ice comes as such a huge shock to us here in Scotland? I mean, obviously ice can be coped with - otherwise there wouldn't be such places as ski resorts, but this morning I woke to find that overnight it had thawed, rained and frozen quickly. The result of course was very thick black ice. I couldn't actually get up my garden path to the car - that took more than ten minutes carrying Anna, poor Pudge looked like Bambi on ice and resorted to lying on his front on the path crying awaiting rescue. Once I got to the car (to take Anna to the doc for an emergency appointment for a chest infection and conjunctivitis) I couldn't get in. The door was iced shut and I could hardly lie the sick baby on the pavement to pull it open so I tugged with one hand while trying to keep my balance, hold Anna and keep Bambi upright. Then of course my de-icer couldn't penetrate the 2cm of ice on the windscreen, I kid you not. When I finally got going, ten minutes after I was meant to arrive at the doc, the road had NOT been gritted so it was the people carrier doing the Bambi impression frantically flashing the dashboard's ABS lights at me. Why exactly had Newton Mearns not been gritted last night? I expected the main road would be ok, but again that was doing its impression of a championship slalom ski run all the way to the Ayr road. We got to the doc and survived the drive. We even watched a few less fortunate cars pirouette past us on our way up Capelrig road, missing us by millimetres! When I lived in a ski region in France the gritters simply passed my front window every 15 minutes pouring out salt, just in case. Maybe we should try taking a leaf out of their book.

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