It is no joke

I went out this morning, risking life and limb and dry clothing, to panic buy some cornflakes. One of the perks of my job is having a four wheel drive company vehicle, which certainly comes in handy every twenty years or so, and this enabled me to negotiate the four inch shelf of fluffy snow that had built up around the tyres. Being of a practical bent, I took with me a shovel, a sleeping bag and a note to my loved ones in case the worst came to itself.

I saw the first casualty before reaching the end of my road. The postman lay stricken on the pathway, frozen solid in a semi-recumbent stoop. I removed myself from the relative safety of my Ranger’s cab, fighting the flakes and fearing it was too late, but fortunately it transpired that he was just tying his shoelace. To save him the hazardous trip up the steps to my flat, I relieved him of an envelope containing my Clubcard coupons. We embraced; it was a touching moment indicative of our community’s siege mentality.

The horrors that befell me on the remainder of my journey will stay with me well into next week. Abandoned vehicles cloaked in frost, screaming children buried up to their ankles. Their minds lost to the hopelessness of their predicament, primal instinct came to the fore as they threw frozen projectiles at each other’s heads. I had to shield my eyes as I passed them at 40 miles per hour.

I had taken a hell of a chance on the supermarket being open, but my bravery had been rewarded. This was stiff upper lipness at its very finest. It was clear, though, that my optimism wasn’t shared by everyone as a good half dozen of the thousand or so parking spaces remained vacant. There was still a chance that I would find the shelves empty of course; supply vehicles may not have been as fortunate in their journey as I had. Again, my luck was in as I claimed the last but twenty box of cereal. But this was no time for complacency: I rushed to the tills and paid for my goods, exchanging a minimum of pleasantries with the pay me girl who looked like she’d had enough of the beeps. My haste was such that I forgot to redeem the Clubcard voucher I had liberated from the postman.

On the journey home I didn’t want to risk seeing any more people in distress, so I kept my eyes closed all the way. It was just was well; judging by the number of stray cars I hit, conditions had really deteriorated.

The relief of being back in the warmth of my flat was even greater than I had expected. I still had my life, and had gained some cornflakes. It was a good ten minutes before I realised that I was out of milk.