We have just arrived home after a very long journey. Normally we sail along. The "Sporty One " prefers to drive and I prefer to hook. So all is gentle,calm and we listen to old CD's . The ones you can sing along to and pretend you know the words. Or else just add a backing line which fits. Of course we always "play" . Name the singer etc. I am singularly useless at it. But hey ho.
This time I decided to work some more little squares for the BIG Elmer blanket waiting to be finished at home. So of course most people would be thinking how many miles you get from a gallon. I am thinking about how many squares I can hook.
All was going as usual until we hit Northern France. The temperatures dropped to minus four and the pretty little dusting of snow that was making the trees look so pretty turned into a fall blown storm.
If I tried to describe it you would not believe it. The tale would resemble a fishing story where the catch gets bigger by the telling.
But. We know not why, hundreds and I do mean hundreds of lorries were just pulled to the side of the motorway in Northern France and the only snow plough we saw was stationary amongst these. There were no warning signs,help or hint at what to do. We pulled out past the stationary lorries and decided to keep trying to get to the ferry port at Caen. Our last 100 miles was spent travelling at about 15 miles an hour to Caen.
We slipped and slid. Our wheels spun and I was wondering how fast I could sew those little squares together to make a blanket to protect us at the side of the road. But, we managed it. Caen was deserted. Nobody was about, the garages and shops were shut and they had not even cleared the road to the port. I have never really thought about Armageddon before but the whole scene had a particularly unnerving and strange feel. One I did not like at all. Where were the police? Where were the council workers. They were not to be seen.
All of a sudden we saw some lights from a little camper van trying to make its way to the port. We followed gladly and were greeted by a flag blowing so strongly that the pole was whistling. The prospect of a crossing to Portsmouth was dismal. But, luckily we had booked a little hotel in the port and after a meal and a welcome hot drink things seemed much brighter. Oysters in a menu of the day certainly lifted my spirits... Served on ice of course.
In the morning the wind had dropped and we made it home. A peaceful,calm crossing and Englander greeted us bathed in sunshine and lovely spring sunshine.
But we did think about all those lorry drivers stuck in the snow that night.
And you really can hook a lot of squares to the gallon!