Dealing with the unexpected


I MUST say it does seem a bit odd broaching on the subject of snow and ice as I wallow in the warmth of Tenerife (28 degrees today). I know I know, somebody has to do it! But I couldn’t help a little titter at the Auld country, once again being caught on the hop by ‘unexpected conditions!’

What this old boy is experiencing now would be ‘unexpected conditions.’ Snow and ice have been expected and received for thousands of winters in the UK. Give us a break you gritters, sanders and snow plough handlers. I’m surprised the ‘wrong type of snow’ has not been put on the table of excuses to date. Give ‘em time, give ‘em time!



During my brief sojourns in certain Scandinavian climes, I seem to recall that whatever weight of the white stuff fell during the night, it was all business as usual on the highways and byways the following morning. Perhaps a few leaves and flakes out of their books wouldn’t go adrift?

Unexpected conditions did however remind me of a story related to me by a one time member of my band (those were the days!). During the mid 60s he had been working in a club in Warsaw and had been given a hotel room in one of its suburbs. They had all got thoroughly wasted after the gig and our hero awoke to the light, filtering through the curtains of a completely strange hotel room, with no knowledge whatsoever of how he got there (I know the feeling!)

With a mouth like parchment and a head that could well have belonged to someone else, he heaved himself off the bed and staggered over to the open window. As he leaned out gasping for air, his bleary eyes slowly took in his surroundings.  Suddenly he was brought up with a severe jolt. The whole street was covered in snow! This would not have been unusual – save for the fact it was the middle of August.

Hardly able to believe his eyes, he gazed slowly around the area and nearly collapsed back into the room. Hanging from every window, up and down the whole street, were emblazoned swastika flags of Germany’s Nazi party. Convinced he had somehow stumbled into some form of time warp, our hero and his still alcohol fuzzed brain, was at this point almost at the point of total seizure. But now it was his ears that joined in this most surreal of deceptions. Very faintly, in the distance, he could hear the ominous rumbling of heavy equipment and the unmistakable sounds of feet – marching feet!

And there my friends I’m afraid we will have to leave it. Well its Christmas ennit. No more room for war time drama. All will be revealed after the Yule. Unfortunately I won’t be home for Christmas; work I’m afraid must take precedence. I shall miss their little faces Christmas morning. Ah well.

Have a wonderful time. Remember whose birthday we are celebrating.

And whatever ya do.

Always keep the faith.

Love Leapy


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