Deep And Crisp And Leaving
After five nights away from home I was determined to beat the weather and make it back to Inverness this morning. I was on the road at half past six, listening to the traffic reports on Good Morning Scotland and hoping against hope that the police wouldn't close the snow gates on the A9. Hope, however, is the thing with feathers and my pluck was running out.
I got as far as Dunblane before the news came through that four lorries were stuck on the road south of Inverness and then it was official...the snow gates were closed at Blair Atholl. There was no way I could get home by car.
So I continued into Perth city centre, found a long-term car-park (拢9 a week) and checked the train timetable at the station. I had an hour an a half to kill before the next service to Inverness so I wandered into town. Most of the shops were not yet open but I noticed that the civic Christmas decorations were still hanging from some of the buildings. It was the first day of February but it felt like December. I suddenly had a craving for mince pies.
The train, when it came, was on time and had lots of empty seats. It was almost fun to watch the landscape turn from green to white and see two young deer scamper across the snowy fields. I ordered a hot chocolate from the catering trolley and began to hum a little ditty about King Wenceslas.
No snow in Inverness when I arrived just twenty-five minutes late. All was well. I just have to remember to pick up my car next week.
Weather permitting, of course.
