Our house is near the top of a hill, and this afternoon I ventured out to see what was going on. It was carnage. There were cars spread all over the road...I spent a little while persuading more cars to stop before it was too late...but that didn't stop several ignoring me, heading down the hill...and sliding into the other cars that had done similar. It sounded a bit like a giant 'Newtons Balls'. When people were already in trouble, I encouraged them to do nothing until the cars lower down the hill were moved....but that didn't stop the suntanned bloke in his onesie deciding that his Range Rover was invincible and he could drive it OK...indeed it was impressive as two tonnes of shiny black Essex car slid gracefully into one car, then the next, then the next and the one after that before coming to rest in another. At that stage I realised there was no helping any of them, so my blood boiling, I called them all stupid and went home. Mr Suntan demanded to know why I was calling him stupid...I ignored him.
Meanwhile The Boy and I did what snowy days are designed for:
