Thursday, 24 February 2011

Our windscreens remained un-smashed by angry pensioners.

It was boxing day 2009. We were on our way home from Couch Potato's mother's house where we had a buffet and exchanged gifts while continuing to stuff our faces with sausage rolls and ready salted crisps.

The motorway was pretty clear, due to the amount of cars whizzing up and down, clearing whatever snow was there right away, so we did not expect what was coming.

We drove through the far-end of town up a few main roads to get to our street, and turned onto it.

"The snow's getting worse over here," I said, my eyes widening in horror when I realised we couldn't go any further. We were stuck!

Couch Potato and I (we were in separate cars) both tried to free ourselves, but neither of us could.

"Mum, what do we do now?" Daughter asked.

"Well, we're only around the corner from the house. Take Son back, but be careful: it's deadly slippery out there."

Daughter nodded and got out, walking carefully up the road in her high heels (bad choice of footwear on a night like that).

I then tried again to free myself, but I just couldn't do it. After negotiating with Couch Potato, we decided to leave our cars there and come back to free them in the morning when some of the snow hopefully had melted - what else could we do? Rev all night until neighbours came outside shaking sticks and pelting rocks at our windows? We could, but it wouldn't do our reputation and our cars any good.

So, we followed the children inside and slouched on the sofa, absolutely whacked.

This post was a part of Mama Kat's Writing Workshop, under the prompt: Describe your worst winter weather story.


Debbie said...

We don't get much snow but we got stuck once in my dad's neighborhood and just had to abandon the car.

Glummy Mummy said...

That is exactly what we had to do. Nightmare!