Fill it up

It is jolly cold.

It is so cold that we have had to rethink all of our week’s plans. We were going to collect Oliver from Scotland on Thursday lunchtime, but we have decided it might be wisest to set off tomorrow. You can never have too many days wandering forlornly in the icy Scottish wilderness.

I am not very certain about this because I have still got a very lot of things that need to be done before we go, but the Scottish highlands are looking as though they might facilitate exciting travelling adventures at the moment, and we would like to give ourselves plenty of time in which to circumnavigate them all.

We do not, to begin with, know for sure how we are going to get up there. The snow gates are closed, which is a nuisance, so we might have to go the long way round. The A9 is covered in snow, and it is going to be very chilly if anything goes wrong.

I am sure that nothing will go wrong. I have faith in the camper van.

We watched a film about some people stuck in a snowdrift once. It was absolutely rubbish and they both jolly well deserved to freeze to death, if only so their staggering incompetence would be firmly removed from the gene pool. I am quite sure that being stuck in a snowdrift would be fairly horrible, but I am equally sure that I would not sit in the back of my car feeling sorry for myself for forty two days, arguing with Mark and grumbling about the unfairness of the weather. If ever it happens I will let you know how I get along.

We have emptied all of the water out of the van, because of the frosts, so we will have to fill both the water and the gas tank before we go. The gas runs the fire and the cooker and the fridge, and so it is more important than I can tell you to make sure that the tank is full, how terrible it would be to be stuck in it for forty two incompetent days if the gas ran out. It has a massive bottle, enough to run everything, including hot showers for both of us, for four or five days, so if we get marooned on a snowy motorway and have to offer succour to passing desperate people, we will probably be all right, at least for a day or two.

We might be struggling a bit if we are stuck there until spring.

In any case, we might as well go to Scotland. It is nearly ten o’clock and I have been on the taxi rank for ages. I have made a fiver so far, and so I am currently in negative equity, because I recklessly filled the fuel tank in the taxi as well. Nobody seems to want to come out into Bowness for a night of wild living and extravagance. At least if we make it to the far north we can go and walk on the beach and see if we can spot any wildlings.

Hence I am rushing to finish the Christmas cards before we go. The design is now complete and I have been slowed only by the tiresome nuisance of having run out of ink for the printer. Printer ink is the most expensive liquid on the planet, next year I am going to do them all in black and white, like a Laurel and Hardy film. I spent this afternoon painting a holly leaf design to go on them. When it dried I shoved in the scanner and copied it. I am not up to hand-painting fifty Christmas cards, not even for people that I like.

If you get a Christmas card from me, you have to appreciate the holly. It looks like a real design pinched from the mighty Internet, but it isn’t. I painted it myself. I quite like it, so probably I will use it next year as well.

If all goes well they will be in the post before we head north. If you never hear from us again you will have to look at the Christmas card and think of us. When they dig us out of a snowdrift in forty two days time you can sigh knowingly and nod sadly. If you are one of my children selling the house is going to be your problem.

Good luck with that.