Thursday, February 08, 2007

Well, I tried

Up at the normal time, peek out of the window: snow! As promised. We must have listened to the rundown of closed schools in Oxfordshire four or five times - there's a lot of them - and eventually established that every school in Abingdon except the Boy's seemed to be shut. So off he went, hah. Hoping and praying for a day off, but he's not back yet, an hour later.

Best Beloved could walk to work, her Swedish blood itching to get out into those snowfields. And me ...

Getting out of the drive was the hairy bit. After that, I reasoned that with the rush hour already well established, the roads would have been swept clean by at least three or four cars gliding in pirouettes to their hideous deaths, and so I could get to work safely. Right?

Got to the first roundabout; decided that if even a main well used road was still this slushy, no way was I going further. I would love to be knocking those three reports on virtual private networks into one glossy brochure, I really would; more to the point and more seriously, I would love to be in an all-day centrally heated building where someone else pays for the heating. But my family would miss its main breadwinner if I skidded to my own death. So, a day at home and not even the compensation of being ill in bed to help pass the time. Comfort eating, second series of Battlestar Galactica on DVD, and the wonders of NTL film on demand, here I come.

UPDATE: oh, okay. M'colleague Claire, or Comrade Stakhanov as we like to call her, having successfully fought the drifts into work, has been able to email me those VPN documents. So, goody, I can work at home, where I pay for the heating and the free coffee isn't on tap. Not that I'm complaining or anything.


  1. Oi! You skiver - I made it in and the roads were fine, if slow.


  2. I could have made it in, but I rang the official number to check and was told they'd closed the office.

    Then I emailed a document to my boss and she replied by asking for my mobile number so she could forward my desk phone to it.

    Curses! (Not that it rang. But it could have).

  3. This technology's a pest, isn't it? Why, in the old days you could just vanish from the office for days on end and no one had any way of knowing if you'd been buried in a snow drift, or eloped to Antigua, or just plain died. Happy days.


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