Snow business like show business
(Snow: Glasgow, Scotland)
We made the national news last week as the Glasgow Subway system had to be closed after 5cm of rain fell in less than 24 hours. It’s been pretty damp here and getting ever more soggy and more icy as each day passes. I heard that there’s a drought in parts of England, so we should be shipping them some of our sopping, iron grey skies for their seemingly troublesome white fluffy ones that are all talk and no action. It’s just been (another) one of those washout weeks for us in Scotland.
But finally the cold snap has hit us – and with a vengeance. Last week it was a week of chilly rain and gales, this week the temperature has dropped, but the winds have not abated. I wore three pairs of socks today inside these snow boots. Luckily there has not yet been a repeat performance of the nasty fall I sustained last year that left a permanent pink scar on my left knee. Whilst much of Monday’s fall of snow has disappeared in inner city Glasgow – to be replaced with puddle filled icy patches – when I went out to teach in a school some miles away today, it was still several centimetres deep on the ground. Tomorrow’s school sessions may be cancelled with talk of high winds – we have to appraise the situation tomorrow.
Tonight I went to see a Pantomime my friend arranged and played all the music for. I was chaperoned by another couple of friends and one of their offspring. The drama of the evening began earlier than expected when the child suffered a chronic nosebleed in the back of the car. Holding her nose and tipping her head back, there was a scrabble for any absorbent materials of which none were immediately apparent. A rag for windscreen cleaning was produced with haste but thankfully its use was halted. Though I consider my maternal instincts weak, I always carry what I would claim are family essentials like tissues and wet wipes, a hard won habit from spending time in China*. We sopped up most of the blood persistently pouring out of her face and I cleaned the rest of her up when we arrived at the Pantomime – though by all accounts we had already conducted one in the car. The Panto itself was uproarious in many ways; to enjoy a Panto, you have to have an affection for comic asides, slapstick, audience participation, mayhem, mild peril, innuendo, and a penchant for potentially poor and puerile jokes. One of the better ones of this evening being; “Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “Europe.” “Europe who?” “No, you’re a poo”. Classic.
* Public toilets – what there is of them – are often without paper and / or running water. Having been in my fair share of lavatories without tissue or wet wipes, I now understand the worth of placing these items in every bag I own.
– Today Rosie was teaching, drawing and going to a Panto in Glasgow, Scotland –
