Dreaming of a non-white Christmas

In the movie Love Actually, Bill Nighy plays an aging rock star, addled by years of substance abuse, making his festive comeback with an excruciating version of Love Is All Around Me that (sadly) contains the lyrics But if you still love Christmas, come on and let it snow.

Snow is pretty. Snow makes the world look like a winter wonderland. When a hard frost settles on snow, the landscape sparkles as if a fairy dust of millions of diamonds has been sprinkled over it, just like a scene from a Walt Disney movie. Children toboggan and build snowmen. People sigh and say, “isn’t it beautiful, isn’t it marvellous to have a white Christmas”.

The reality is various hardships such as transport at a standstill, treacherous roads keeping snowploughs and gritters busy around the clock, stranded travellers and householders with burst pipes and no heating. Very soon the beauty of tree branches groaning under the burden of a foot of snow and miles upon mile of white landscape gives way to sheep and cows forlornly pawing the ground to try and find feed and deer that come to join them in their desperate search for fodder.

Then just as the animals gain a reprieve, and the snow thaws enough for grass to start peeking through and relieve their hungry tums, for people the misery worsens as snow turns to slush and then a hard frost turns it to ice.

In Scotland, the first snow fell two months ago, on November 6^th. It has not let up and pundits predict at least another month of this cruel weather. For many, their heating oil or gas will not be delivered for another two or three weeks. Black ice abounds on many roads. Even 4WDs (especially mine, an unroadworthy beast which should have Mister Ford turning in his grave) struggle to beat the conditions. Why, just the other day, Polly’s parents were unable to successfully negotiate a bend, with their vehicle sliding menacingly sideways and backwards. Hessian sacks are still there which they placed on the ice to help their wheels gain traction.

According to Hazel, however, the winter of 2010/11 is nowhere near as bad as those of her childhood, although her descriptions do hold a Pythonesque echo of oneupmanship.

“I think people have gone soft,” she declares, whilst cosily enjoying a hot meal in a warm room.

“When I was a child, we didn’t have any of the things we have now like central heating and snow gritters. We had to get out with shovels and help our neighbours clear the roads. And the snow was far worse. Why, I can recall snow drifts so high that a man standing on it was level with the top of a telegraph pole.”

Things began to change, Hazel maintains, when the local landowner took matters to hand.

“He was a terrible fornicating laird,” she says, “but he did great things for the village. He introduced snow ploughs – as well as bolstering the population numbers.”

Dawn has invited us for coffee. My pathetic excuse for a 4WD can only get us a third of the way – and that was only after we gritted and salted our driveway to get out onto the main road. We park at the Log Cabin Hotel, and make our way on foot up to Dawn’s Norwegian log cabin, a walk of about 20 minutes, made slower by navigating around the sheet ice to find snow or the occasional gritted path to more safely walk on.

On the way back down, I get stuck on a downward slope with only ice all around me and, paralysed, have only one choice. So I sit down and daintily slide a few yards til I reach more traversible ground.

At the Log Cabin, we decide to reward ourselves with lunch. Polly – a neighbour of Dawn’s – is there with her six month old son who she has wheeled down the icy hillside in his push chair!

“It’s easier when you’ve something to hold on to,” she says. Mind you, Polly is the youngest Scottish girl to ever climb Everest, so she does have impressive credentials for managing sheet ice and a pram at the same time. Still, I feel too embarrassed to admit that my only way down had been on my bottom.

Back at ground level, we bump into a couple who have rented a cottage nearby for their winter holiday. They arrived two days ago to burst pipes and no heating or hot water. They are going home tomorrow.

Luckily, I can call upon Eric for just such emergencies as these. It is his 65^th birthday this week so I shall make sure to shout him a few shots of well-deserved Famous Grouse, to ensure his cogs stay well-oiled.  Weather forecasters are threatening another snow spell, so it is best to Be Prepared.