Snow

Today was very productive. I have only about fifteen roof shingles left to attach so, an hour and I would’ve cracked it. Except….Except every time I tried to leave the house, it rained. Boiler suit on, open back door, rain comes on. I retreat inside and when I think the sun has come back out, I venture up the garden only to be soaked in another of the torrential downpours.
I know that living in the North east of Scotland that unpredictable weather is, well, predictable but today was just ridiculous. I have a habit of choosing the wrong time to do things which are weather dependant. This year, two specific ones come to mind.

The ground needed levelled where the log cabin was to go so I booked the hire of a mini digger. When it was delivered outside the house, it was sunny if a little crisp. That did not bother me. Once I started using it, the Saturday afternoon quickly descended into a day of driving sleet. I was wearing… tracksuit bottoms (only ever worn as an under garment or around the house) work trousers, chainsaw chaps (stop it!), T- shirt, fleece, boiler suit, hi viz jacket, chainsaw helmet, chainsaw boots and two pairs of socks. The chainsaw gear was not worn for protection from a saw but for the fact that it afforded some protection from the elements. The ear defenders kept some of the howling wind out but the chaps had a slight flaw, in that, even although they are waterproof, they have no rear end protection (most chainsaw users don’t use them behind their backs) as a result, every time my gloves got soaked through and I ran (as best one can with more layers than the Michelin man) into the house to warm up and change gloves. I would return to find the seat of the digger to be wet. Even whilst sitting on it, water would run off my jacket leaving my arse soaking. It was only on the Monday as I was preparing to return the digger that I noticed you can tip the seat to stop it getting wet!

On Sunday morning I woke up to find that about six inches of proper snow had fallen since I had collapsed into bed the night before. All my concept of levels were gone as everything was white. Undeterred, I continued digging. The snow started falling again and I noticed that each bit I was working on would become buried within about ten minutes. The battle against this was becoming hopeless but I carried on regardless, not wanting to waste any of the £65 per day plus insurance ( against hitting buried cables etc) plus VAT.
I had to give up when the actions of the digger were turning the snow into brown slush and I kept getting the machine stuck. Yes, this is the kind of thing used on building sites all the time. They have tracks which gives them plenty grip and I was getting this one so stuck I had to lift it round with its own hydraulics. When the guy from the hire place collected it he told me he had never heard of anyone else managing to get one stuck. I thought about saying that no one else had THE EMSLIE EFFECT but thought better of it.

For the next few weeks, my excavations remained a quagmire. I had to pour a huge amount of brick rubble and aggregate to displace the water. It was a mess. Katy proclaimed I had “ruined our garden” so it is, perhaps just as well we are having a spell of rain and showers as the grass has finally begun to grow back.


You will have heard a lot about how we pick up stuff on Freecycle. One of the first things I fancied was a Car Transporter Trailer. I was second in line to get it and when we got the green light that the first people hadn’t wanted it, I made arrangements to collect it. My car did not have a towbar at that point so I asked my brother to sort out a suitable vehicle. I went past as soon as I had finished work on a Tuesday evening.

George told me he had got a shot of a friend’s pick up truck which had a towbar. We went up to collect it. We put £20 of diesel into it, during which time we had a problem getting the fuel cap off and, at one point, were scared we‘d snap the key. The trailer was north of Aberdeen, it was going to take us the best part of an hour to do the 50 odd total miles up there. Once we were heading out of Aberdeen, the snow started falling, ever so lightly at first. It then became quite persistent. Before long, all we could see was one set of tracks ahead of us on the single carriageway road. Visibility was not great. This might have had something to do with one of the headlight bulbs not working. We had also, quickly run out of screen wash water so we stopped off at a filling station in Mintlaw. Just in the nick of time as I was bursting for the toilet too.

I went into the shop and, not wanting to seem only there with the intention of using their toilet, asked about the headlight bulb, which they confirmed they stocked before handing over the key for the toilet. I headed back out to the toilet and found that the light did not work so I had to trust the light from my mobile phone to ensure my aim at the pot. I went back inside, all the while trying to subtly check I had not had any accidents against my trousers or boots in the dark. The bulb cost nearly a fiver and I went back out to George who had a bad prognosis for the van. While he was filling the washer bottle he had noticed that there was a makeshift radiator cap made from a foil pie dish and an elastic band. This worried him as there might be a build up of pressure were we to use the heaters too much so the decision was made to forego the comfort for the benefit of the vehicle.

We continued on our journey and, finally got to the house of the people offering the trailer. It was a sturdy looking thing. Home made but I wasn’t expecting a Brian James or a Ifor Williams (there seems to be a bit of a theme with quality trailer brands) The guy told me he’d checked the lights and that they were all working which was great news until George piped up “wont make any difference, this thing’s electrics are broken” Fabulous!

It was a four wheeled trailer. Two tyres were completely knackered, one, we were told, held air for about a day and the fourth was a bigger wheel than was really practical as he had had to bend the wheel arch upwards for it to fit on. We hooked up the trailer, thanked the people very much and set off. A few miles down the road, George stopped so we could get out and have a good look to see that everything was towing ok. I rubbed the bare wires dangling from the van’s towbar on the ground a bit so they looked like they had just snapped should we get stopped by the police but a few more miles down the road we were stopped by something all together more terminal.

There was a noise coming from the trailer so we stopped in a lay-by. On investigation, the steam lead us to the oversized wheel and tyre which was now wedged into the wheel arch and sitting at a very un natural angle. It had obviously not just happened, as there was quite a gash in the wall of the tyre and the heat had built up enough to create the steam.

Between us, we decided that I would call out my breakdown company. I gave them the details of the trailer, the registration number of the van and that it was a Transit pick up that was towing it. However, it was only the trailer that needed uplifted. When the operator heard that it was a Transit van they said that they would need to check on something. I was then told that, seeing as it was a commercial vehicle, the recovery would be chargeable. I tried to explain that it was a borrowed van and that I was not involved in business. I told her that I still had my royal Mail uniform on and that we simply wanted the trailer picked up and that what was towing it was irrelevant. Perhaps I thought that the main thing was to get it and us home and out of the sub zero temperatures (George was still adamant that the heaters were not to go on) Perhaps I had decided that if they sent me a bill, I would tell them I wasn’t going to pay it. I agreed for them to send a recovery truck and she told me it would be there within the hour.

George then piped up that he could try the AA of which he was a member. He spent over half an hour waiting on hold to them before getting through and being told that they would come out and the mention of a van did not phase them. They said they would be with us in just over an hour. My phone battery was dying so I used George’s phone to call my agency to cancel the call out. Just under half an hour later, a recovery truck came into view. I went over and asked who had sent him (very much in the way an evil baddy might do in an espionage thriller) it became apparent to me that it was not made apparent to him that the call out had been cancelled so he was sent on his way. The next half hour seemed to last an eternity. I was losing the feeling in my toes sitting in a snowscape on a lonely road with only my brother for conversation. No way of telling Katy there was a problem but that I was ok and wishing I had not sent away the first lorry. Finally, the truck sent by the AA arrived and the trailer was loaded up and we made our way home. It was nearly 2am before I got home that night.