Thursday, 2 December 2010

Coleshill: Birmingham's very own ski resort

The great British freeze has returned to Birmingham this week and is doing its absolute best to foil my plans to do anything more than sit at home, whinging about the snow.

During it's four week rein in January of last year, I was forced by my Firefighter father to keep out of my car and stay in the house as he worries about my tiny self being out on the road in these hazardous conditions. Thankfully, he has not banned me from my car this time around, but I was left with dire warnings ringing in my ears as I headed out to partake in some Christmas shopping with Sprog today.

As a firefighter, he seems to do nothing but cut poor souls out of car wrecks during these icy times - and this is possibly what makes him so adamant that his daughter will not be his next call out. I'm completely aware that I am not going to die in a horrific crash merely because there are a few millimetres of snow on the ground, but Mien Papa is slightly tainted by his experiences with the cold weather and won't budge an inch.

Much like my poor car Betsy, as it happens. She's a sweet little thing, but she most certainly isn't a fan of the snow, and didn't half put up a fight when I tried to drive her up the slight incline to my drive earlier. Wheels squealing, Betsy slipped and swerved all over the place as I fought to regain control of her - the three of us very nearly ended up in the hedge!

And it's not just Betsy who's having trouble getting a grip in this weather...yours truly very nearly had a
nasty (but rather comical) fall on my way to the hairdressers this morning. My hairdressers is at the bottom of one of the steepest hills in Coleshill, and on my way down I almost ended up sledging there on
my behind!

You see, I - like many others I am sure - was under the silly impression that my army boots would be a rather sensible form of footwear for this weather. Wrong. Very wrong. The bloody things have absolutely no grip. In fact, they may as well have wheels on for all the good they do! I took three steps down the hill and ended up doing that silly arms out, feet-treading-water dance you do as you desperately try to regain your balance. It worked, thankfully, and I managed not to end up face down in a pile of grey slush - just.

So this is my plea to the winter weather:

Dear Snow,
We love you. You are beautiful to watch, you make everything in our world look so much nicer, and without you Christmas just wouldn't be the same.
But if you could just try not to be so damn slippy, it would be greatly appreciated. That is all.
Yours sincerely,
Your latest victim xx



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