Could you please knock me off my feet for a while?

... being a fine line from Galaxy of Emptiness by Beth Orton, which I am currently listening to a version of on the ever-splendid Radio 6.

A splendid sentiment, and one which the weather has delivered today: it's knocked the whole country off its feet, sometimes literally. I am a bit pissed off about this, as it was plumbing night, and I didn't get there.

It wasn't that I didn't try. S walked here through the snow after the traffic backed up, so keen was she. I gave her hot soup and toast, and M and S here loaded us up with mobile phones, blankets, flasks of hot tea and Kendal mint cake in case we didn't make it to Berinsfield.

I cleared the snow and ice off M's bashed up but still super-modern car, silently offering thanks that the 2cv is in someone else's care these days, turned the heating up to 11 and we slithered off down the road with our tools in the back, thinking dammit, how girlie are we if we can't even get to the class?

But after an hour of near stationary traffic combined with ABS-enhanced slide terror whenever we got into second, we had only gone about five miles, and we decided that there is a fine line between brave and stupid, and we were in danger of crossing it. So I did a stylish U-ey and we came home again.

To make up for it we're buying copper tubing and compression fittings at the weekend and we're going to bloody well practise.

joella