Flakes

Ah, it’s snowing, it must be Easter.

I was working today, and everything was all planned and in order when we went to bed last night. Carole was going to run me into town and then come home and do a variety of exciting tasks at home. So, naturally, we woke up to snow falling from the heavens and any bets of Carole driving into town were off.

I caught the bus in to work. Surprisingly the Arriva services which are shocking at the best of times were actually performing within acceptable tolerances this morning. Which is to say, it turned up. That’s a win where Arriva are concerned, and you have to take those where you can get them.

But once on the bus I found myself sitting in front of  a couple of fun sponges who were, to all intents and purposes, providing the Director’s Commentary for the snowy bus journey.

It started, at least for me, with this:

“I mean, who doesn’t grit the A62?”

I know, right. Who doesn’t grit the A62. And, more importantly, what road is the A62? Is it this road we’re on? Why aren’t you calling it Leeds Road like every other normal person? Why do you only know roads by their A numbers?

Also, to answer your question, it’s Kirklees Council who don’t grit the A62.

“Well, I can tell you now the bus will NOT be pulling in to that bus stop,” pausing to laugh. “It simply will not get out of it.”

He was right. The bus did not pull in to bus stop. That had less to do with the snow and more to do with the fact that no-one wanted to get on or off, but you can’t fault the self-appointed snow expert for his insight.

Somewhere around now, his wife mentioned that she needed to get some cash out. He responded by telling her he was sure that Manchester had cash machines. To which she replied that they wouldn’t have a Yorkshire Bank. There are a lot of issues with this whole exchange, not least the fact that if they were going to Manchester there were most likely doing it by train and there are cash machines in Huddersfield Station, but mainly because it doesn’t matter if Manchester has a Yorkshire Bank or not because you can use any cash machine.

But luckily, this didn’t go on for long because a grit lorry went past! Hurrah.

“Well, the light is on. That means it is spreading.”

Then, mere seconds later.

“The grit lorry is turning. Where IS that grit lorry going?!?”

There was panic in his voice as only a small portion of the A62 had been gritted. The lorry chose to turn off towards the Stadium, rather than continue to treat and plough the main thoroughfare to Huddersfield. One can only assume that this is in part due to Huddersfield’s inflated sense of self-worth with regards to the football since promotion to the Premier League. One can also assume that will fade away immediately at the end of this season.

Another grit lorry pulled along side us a short while later.

“This one has a plough on it. And it is spreading.” He really was keeping us all informed. Sadly, it too turned off from the beloved A62, choosing instead to focus its efforts on the roads around the retail park. Again, there was disgust at these actions.

Then more disgust that the “flashy sign” as they called it wasn’t on. There is a digital sign at the side of the road which I have only ever seen bang on about football. They were expecting it to report on the state of Huddersfield.

“How are we supposed to know if we can go into Huddersfield if the sign is not on?” said Mrs.
“Exactly. How is the bus supposed to know whether to go through the town centre or to use the ring road?” said Mr. “Because they will go round the ring road if they can’t use the town centre,” he added, assuming that his statement needed clarification.

We went through town.

They got off, while I remained on the bus to the bus station. As we pulled away from their alighting stop, the bus skidded in the snow.

I was disappointed not to hear a faint, “I told you so!” on the breeze as we eventually got underway.