Quota alps

Not really – actually a shot across Table Bay from Green Point yesterday, but it could be Österreich!
I was almost tempted to burst into something from The Sound of Music, but I didn’t.

I did mention that this week was going to be a bit hectic. Perhaps you could amuse yourself with my (still uploading) Playing at Green Point Flickr set, with about a million options for Smartphone and Desktop background loveliness.

Sad.

All the way from Cape Town to London. But no further.

It’s sad that after all the anticipation, all the planning, all the trials and tribulations, that the final photo I managed to get on my trip up North was this one:

But it does speak volumes about my last few days in the UK. Taking photos inside the airport – even if you were in the mood to do so and there was something worth recording – is frowned upon by the Sussex police and their big guns. And the view from the windows was grey, industrial and limited by poor visibility.
That pic was taken on my arrival at Gatwick on Wednesday afternoon. The following morning, I trekked 4 miles up the A23, towing my suitcase. To put you in the picture (not literally), this is the the major route that leads in, out and around Gatwick airport. It’s a major road, a busy dual carriageway. Usually, anyway.
This was it on Thursday morning at about 9:30am:

This was just before I hitched a lift with an aircraft engineer called Brian, who was trying to get into work and who had been on the road for over an hour, despite living only 6 miles away. He told me that the ground staff had cleared over 160,000 tonnes of snow off the runway in 8 hours the previous day. I wondered why the person weighing it was bothering – the numbers are meaningless when you’re fighting a losing battle anyway.

And so, with Gatwick cut off from the outside world – no planes, no buses, no taxis, no hire cars, no nothing – in or out for over 24 hours and with reports of the weather rapidly worsening towards the west of London, when a single (and I mean a single) bus did become available to Heathrow, I jumped at the chance, got to T5 and moved my flight home forward by 48 hours. And thus, I found myself – ironically, left without a reason to stay – checking in for a flight back to Cape Town at just about exactly the same time a-ha would have been coming onto the stage at the Oslo Spektrum.

Utterly heartbreaking and a disastrous end to my trip. I didn’t see the friends I wanted to see, I didn’t get to Oslo and I didn’t get that last opportunity to see Morten et al doing their thing for the last time. At least for my part, I did everything I could.
There were the usual, annual reports in the papers about how badly Britain had coped with the snowy conditions, but this was exceptionally bad weather: the worst in living memory in Sheffield, as you can see from this photo of my parents’ road – yes – it is there somewhere.

Back to Cape Town and normal life (such as it is), then.

Which actually isn’t such a bad thing.

The dream is dying

Things are looking bad. Very bad.

The beauty and rediscovered novelty of the snow has given way to the practicalities of travel and the implications of not being able to get to where I need to be.
As I write, there are blizzard conditions outside, adding to the (at least) 16″ of snow on the ground already. Locally, the roads are all closed, deep in snow and transport is at an absolute standstill. These are exceptional conditions, even for Sheffield.  And in the midst of all this, I have to get to the station and try and find my way to Gloucester for the next leg of my journey. But that’s not going to be possible – I’m just not able to get anywhere at the moment: it really is that bad. And so, I’m going to make a big push to walk the 5 miles to Sheffield station towing a 23kg suitcase on a sledge: and get to London.

And even when I do that, Gatwick airport is closed.

But I need to do my bit: there’s no point my being anywhere but Gatwick if they should reopen before my flight is due to leave.

I’m depressed, a litte worried about heading out in these conditions and resigned to the fact that this isn’t going to happen. So, if it does, then I’m all smiles.

Photos from yesterday are going up on flickr as I write.

And now, I am just going outside and may be some time.

Snow-ta Photo

I’m watching Tranmere v Wolves in the FA Cup (and currently Tranmere are all over the visitors like an aggressive gravy) so I’m giving you a snow-ta photo.
It’s like a quota photo, but with snow (see what I did there?).

This is one my Dad took on New Year’s Eve. Beautiful.
My parents arrived back home on 10th December from a 6 week tour of  Australia. It was 3°C in Sheffield that day and it hasn’t got that warm again since. The forecast until Friday gives a daily maximum of 0°C or below.

Happy days.

Half a world away…

A couple of photos taken this morning.
One of mine, taken in Cape Town, featuring my boy and False Bay:

And one of my Dad’s, taken in Sheffield, featuring his back garden:

And although for many it might seem to be a no-brainer, I’m actually struggling to decide where I would rather be right now…