Monday, December 20, 2010

Call me Macauley...

It's a worrying week for my nerves. The entire world has gone ballistic over the snow...the media is barely content with criticising the government for the financial world crisis - we are now being led by morons incapable of stocking up on enough grit to keep us safe in these Arctic times. I'm biting my tongue. I'm not asking the obvious question - "Hey Daily Mail, if we did have enough grit supplies to deal with this weather would your headline by any chance be - AFTER TEN YEARS OF WASTING MONEY ON GRIT INSTEAD OF USING IT TO SEND PEOPLE BACK TO WHERE THEY CAME FROM IT FINALLY COMES IN HANDY".

It's not that I want the country to be at a standstill - far from it. I'm currently on my way to Leeds - havign got up at 5:30am to be delayed by 90 minutes with no real idea as to whether I'll even be able to get back once I arrive at my destination. I'm sort of imagining a Home Alone style Christmas at this point where I'll have heaps of fun, cause some damage and then learn something poignant. Only it'll happen in Leeds. Which might mean I'll need to glam it up a bit. Glam? Is that the right word?

Last time I went to Leeds I got licked by a hobo. Sitting, incredibly hungover, in the foyer of my hotel trying to remember where I lived and why I was in Leeds I was set upon by a man insistent on showing me his tummy. Once he'd shown me his tummy I was licked. Joyeaux Noel.

Even If I do get back from Leeds today, I still have to make it back to Somerset on Friday. Friday - Christmas Eve - at 5:30pm when I finish work. Sheesh when did being a grown up become such a ball ache? I don't even have balls! Am I not meant to be rolling around in the snow, playing with family and preparing to be snowed in, not out?

With any luck there'll be plenty of snow to go around but it will just manage to happily miss the stretch of the M3 and A303 as I desperately try to be in my bed by midnight to wait for the big man.

Fingers crossed.

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