Friday, February 06, 2009

A mile in another man's shoes?

We moved to Ambridge late in 1990. Our first winter here was a proper Winter with a capital “W”. For four weeks we had a meter long icicle hanging off the corner of the conservatory at Jest Towers, and our poor late lamented moggy (then a spry young two year old) could wade chest deep in snow like a little ginger Bismark.

One especially icy Saturday saw Dr Neighbour and I abandon our attempt to drive home from the duty surgery at the foot of Lakey Hill, after some pillock had jack-knifed his artic’ across the road. Instead we stumped up the hill and back to Jest Towers afoot, like Pooh and Piglet tracking woozles—only stopping at the top of the hill for a reviving medicinal port in the now demolished Lakey Arms. When we made it home we ended up calling Radio Ambridge, to warn the punters there was little point calling on the duty doc that weekend as his car lay abandoned and almost all roads were impassable anyhow. Later that afternoon (once the “medicine” had worn off a bit) we went back with spades and dug Dr Neighbour’s car out, and let our newfound Radio chums know we had restored normal service. Since then Ambridge winters have been a bit of a damp squib—though often very damp indeed to be sure.

Until now.

This week we have fallen pray to a new meteorological phenomenon, the “Snow Event”. Indeed, we have had two such thus far, and can apparently look forward to another on Sunday. On the minus side it’s made all the roads hereabouts really slippy so driving has been a bit of a pain. On the plus side it has made all the roads hereabouts really slippy, so the schools have been closed and nobody has been mad enough to venture out to work, which has made driving an absolute joy, especially when, as this morning, you get to drive through countryside where every tree and bush stands limned in glittering white frosting, in the special silence that attends fresh fallen snow.

Better yet, when you get in to the office, scarcely later than on a normal day despite the “extreme” weather, everyone is so pleased to see you, and many of the regulars, having take a peep out from under the duvet, have decided they can wait a few more days before coming in and so have cancelled their appointments, making the caseload a little lighter. Intriguingly though one group of patients seems to stick at nothing to come in, those with pre-existing mobility problems. One poor old chap even managed the two mile walk in for a routine review of his Parkinson’s Disease since the busses weren’t running. It’s almost as though the snow doesn’t impinge, or that it is just another and perhaps more trivial challenge to their mobility.

I'm pretty sure they could teach the rest of us a thing or two.

4 comments:

Z said...

I've a friend with rheumatoid arthritis who advised me "never say you are 'in constant pain'. It will become your identity".

BenefitScroungingScum said...

You're absolutely right..what's a little snow when everything else is inaccessible anyway? Ice is something else though!
BG

Swiss Missus said...

"...wade chest deep in snow like a little ginger Bismark."

Ahhh...

And I'll limit my comment to that - the less said by me about the English 'sense for snow' the better...

:-)

Doctor Jest said...

z-- your friend is truly an enlihgtened soul.

Bendy Girl-- yep, had ice on the estate at Jest Acres this a.m. and getting off the drive was no joke. The grounds staff are for it when I get home I can tell you.

Swiss Mrs-- or should I say Miss Smilla (?) the thing is we only get to do "Snow" proper once every 20 years or so. I can still remember the time the Yorkshire Snow Ploughs (all shiny and new) were prevented from getting the job done because they were snowed into their sheds, and that's got to be almost 40 years ago. We're not that much better at snow now, to be sure, but we can certainly do rain unlike almost anybody else ;-)