Tales Of The Bleak Midwinter – The Worth Of A Respectable Walking Jacket (Even For The Northern Male)!
Author : Bruno Blackstone
Submitted : 2011-11-20 23:42:48 Word Count : 720 Popularity: 7
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In common with many Brits, I was caught unprepared by the cold wintertime of 2009. I shall keep in mind December 17th specially well because, untypical for me, I was unprepared for the weather and the happenings of the day. I had enjoyed the day walking, it was chilly and the very first few snowflakes fell around the first part of the afternoon. I reside in Ingleton however had been walking around the amazing Ribblehead Valley, appreciating its famous viaduct. I paid a visit to the local pub for food and a crafty half pint before travelling back home. Regrettably by the point I’d emptied my dish, there turned out to be almost 6 inches of snowfall. The pub is high in the fells in Yorkshire’s Three Peaks and such unusually quick snowfall is known to take place. My car at that time was a modest hatchback, which can be far from acceptable in such weather therefore I quickly was mindful I had a challenge. The by at this point crushed snow on the tarmac had soon taken on the consistency of ice. I noticed that this had ended up in a minimum of two automobiles sliding and becoming stuck in the snow-covered countryside.
Eternally an optimist, I made my way to my hatchback, started it, put it in gear gradually but despite my maximum attempts, it moved only two metres, backwards. There turned out to be not much grip for the tyres in these types of conditions, so every time I started to make my way in the direction of the main road the tiny hatchback only slid backwards all over again. By now it was late afternoon, the snow kept coming plus the sun was getting low. So, having no other option, I re-entered the public house to equip myself for a mighty challenge; I was going to have to hike to my home. I had with me a high-visibility coat and some cycle lights. They would assure I would not be very gradually run over by an out-of-control vehicle. Alas, because I had not planned to be out of doors for very long, especially not in snow and darkness I hadn’t brought my ideal outerjacket.
I had on my regular rambling clothing of warm undercoat, water resistant outerjacket, army and navy store combat trousers, sturdy boots and (luckily) thick hosiery as the distance was seven leagues. It was rapidly becoming evident that this degree of apparel wouldn’t nearly be satisfactory. I was on first name terms with the landlord of the bar and he furnished me with a strong torch as well as a woolly head-covering for the journey to my home. He at the same time insisted on giving me a large measure of brandy “For luck. And heat.”
Hence, thus attired, I began my trek home. One thing I realised about wintertime rambling is never to walk using the tarmac street, as this is a formula for skidding and many accidents, adhere to the grass at the roadside. This I learned the tough way when I slipped on a slight incline and ended up sliding along. For the next several hours, I made my way along the valley, teeth knocking so hard I got a headache. My face stung with the freezing weather what’s more I appeared silly with my borrowed pink wooly bobble hat and cycle lights strapped on with string. Finally I stumbled into my local pub, I’m told, appearing like a cross between the Yeti and St. nicholas, so red were my cheeks. I felt better with the warmth and a little good old hot tea, a buddy offered to take me the rest of the way back home, for which I am eternally grateful. His suggestions remained with me and I could never forget it. “Next time, take with you a decent jacket, just in case”. Intelligent words indeed.
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