I was sat in my office in Droitwich Worcestershire planning the next day's work for my trucks when one of my drivers 'Phil' returned early from his Scottish trip. I asked him why he had raced the job and he pointed me to the factory entrance and said he was racing to beat the weather storm coming in and suggested I sent the lads home early. Half an hour later we were under 8 inches of snow and shut the factory early. A chap named Bill came in each day on a moped, his home was on my route home so I offered him a lift and suggested he pulled his bike into the factory. Bill and I set off in my mk2 cortina at 2.15 pm. The roads were horrendous, a foot of snow had fallen and the gritters were caught unaware. We struggled on ploughing through 2ft drifts, stopping only when the traffic held us up. My journey of 15 miles to Kidderminster was along a winding 'A' road that had high close hedge rows and open countryside either side of the road. The snow was blizzarding and the hedges made the road look like a giant toboggan run, to make matters worse a snow plough was trundling along throwing huge blades of snow up against the hedge creating a barricade and the snow piled up the other side of the hedges. Very quickly we had a 20ft+ high wall of snow either side of the road, it became scary. Eventually my trusty Cortina got Bill into his village of Cutnall green at 4.30pm, as I dropped him off and he dipped his head down into the oncoming snow and headed off like one of Ernest Shackleton's men into the blizzard I wondered if I should have asked him if I could stay at his. Optomistic youth saw me gently pull away into the oncoming snow, and within a hundred yards I was stuck in a drift, no sign of Bill coming to dig me out, no he was probably home warming his feet in front of an open fire having a cup of cocoa and relating to his Mrs the tale of our horrendous journey. With the help of other motorists I got out of the drift and turned back towards Droitwich and a safer more commuter friendly route, it wasn't to be, a truck had jackknifed further up the road and we were forced to turn around and head back towards Kiddy. While turning my car slid into a Ford escort and pushed it into a ditch, amazingly neither car had any visible damage, we got his car out with the help of other motorists and people out helping and set off again. We got nearly to the other end when we realised ( me and the other drivers ) that the big mounds we were driving around were in fact cars that had been abandoned and were actually buried beneath the snow. At 9pm the game was up, the blue lights of a police range rover were blocking the road and a small line of hardy motorists came to an halt. Another lorry had jackknifed on the last double bend, the rest of the journey home was to be on foot. The small armoury of shovels that seemed to appear from nowhere along the journey were deposited back into car boots and miraculous amounts of spare overcoats and wellington boots appeared as if Paddington bear's entire wardrobe had been secreted away in the boots of Worcestershire cars. After another miraculous appearance of a bottle of cognac and swigs taken, the small band that we were,were soon on our trudging way. The snow had finally stopped blizzarding and a hush had fallen across the now moonlit countryside. We had three miles to go and a half bottle of cognac. We warmed up as we walked ( trudged, pulling and cajoling each other ) and the chatter was in the form of the new found camaraderie. As we joined a fork in the road we were joined by other walkers who had been in a similar predicament and took to the hoof too, they joined our band as if rejoining a lost platoon. Half a mile down the road was a pub, 'The mare and colt' The landlord was out wrapped warmly against the chill and handing out free whisky. The man was a legend and offered free sleeping to anyone who couldn't make the rest of the journey, none of our band took up his offer, although I know a few others did. I got to Lou's parents house at about 11.30pm and everyone seemed relieved I had made it back safely. They could not come to search as the roads were totally impassable and the warnings were to stay indoors. Lou's dad Tony made me a warm toddy and ma fed me a good plate of pasta. They then asked me where I was staying as Lou and I were only courting and the chance of me sleeping under the same roof as her were -- Nil. It was just before we were getting married and we had bought a little two up two down around the corner that we were doing up in readiness for our life together. I said I would be fine there and once my body was warmed through and my belly was full I bade them goodnight, took another glass of scotch then fought my way along the treacherous three streets to our partly renovated house. It was while I was turning the key in the front door lock I remembered the missing downstairs windows, the missing walls and the lack of furniture. We did however have a small working gas fire in the living room and new divan bed still in the wrapping that I put together quickly and covered myself in the old carpet we had taken up from the living room floor. Half a second later I was in the land of nod, snug as a bug in a rug. The next morning I was woken by my new neighbour Bob, I heard his voice calling, "Malc, Malc, are you alive" I popped my head from beneath the carpets and nearly knocked the mug of soup he had brought for me out of his hand. " I thought you might be dead mate. It has been minus 24 overnight" But I was fine. I had on still my full clothing including my wellington boots and duffle coat. Still, I took the soup and gulped it down gratefully. I had survived the coldest night in English history, Minus 27 20 miles up the road in Newport Shropshire. My father in law wouldn't believe my story of 20ft high drifts until we fired up the bay and went to fetch my car. I'll spare you the expletives he used, but in his Italian accent they were very funny. The happy band of motorists I never saw again or ever spoke to anyone who was there, but that's the thing with these events, strangers come together for a common cause and then drift off back into their own life. My cortina started first time and within two days the weather had warmed, the snow had gone and the night of adventure was but a fading memory.
Tamworth is roughly 20 miles more north than Kiddy, it's hardly the frozen wastes of Siberia. It just seems like it on Sundays!
Storytelling and a face for radio, Malc.... told you this when we first met! Loved reading this. I’m not by a warm fire but awaiting a nice curry.
I still grimace when I think of that day. A voice for radio you said. I said a face for radio more like and you went with it, and have ever since
Perhaps this story is best told whilst sipping a single malt round a nice blazing fire under @MorkC68 s shelter while it snows outside - two weeks tomorrow
