Catalyst Part 3
Yes, I know I haven't written part 2 yet, I'm not try to do a George Lucas, it's just that at the moment it is easier for me to jump from illness to funeral.
Last night, on Channel 4, there was a documentary entitled 'Gridlock', about the chaos caused on the roads by heavy snow on January 30th 2003. (Out of interest, it featured Jag of Route 79, whose journey home took hours that night).
It also happened to be the night before my mother's funeral.
The first we realised something was wrong was on the M25. We had heard forecasts of snow, and as the funeral was in North London we were glad we had taken the sensible decision to book into a hotel the night before. We set off from Kent in the afternoon, just in case the weather turned bad. We needed to get to junction 25 of the M25 and as we reach junction 27 it was snowing quite hard.
Pretty soon it was obvious that this was no ordinary snow flurry, the traffic ground to a halt. The distance we should have covered in about 10 minutes took almost 2 hours. I was in the car with my children and (my now ex-)wife J. J's parents were heading down from the north to meet us at the hotel, and phone conversations suggested they were experiencing similar weather and delays.
The M25 was soon a car park and the last few hundred yards of our journey along it was a cheeky crawl up the hard shoulder, as we were one of few trying to get off at that exit. We carefully followed the slippery local roads to our hotel and were very glad of our reservation – quite a few people were in reception who had decided to give up on their journeys and find a room for the night.
We checked in, found our room and a call to J's parents suggested that we go on to the restaurant and order dinner, they would catch up with us later. We ate, the meal punctuated with mobile phones ringing as stranded travellers checked on their families and vice versa. My eldest sister contemplated coming to join us at the hotel rather than risk her journey home, but realised that either destination would be equally difficult, and she would be stuck with nothing to wear for the funeral.
We returned to the hotel reception, where they were now turning people away as all the rooms were full. Having checked that they would keep J's parents' room for them, we went upstairs. By the time the children were ready for bed, J's parents still hadn't arrived. They assured us they would be there later but, rather than disturb us and the children, would wait to see us at breakfast.
The view from the window was a blanket of snow, in the distance a line of lorries parked on the M25. We went to sleep.
The next morning we awoke to find the white blanket was still covering everything. At around 6am my mobile rang. We assumed it was J's parents asking us when we wanted breakfast. In fact, it was the hotel calling to see if I still wanted the room I had booked - J's parents had spent the night in their car, on the motorway. Later that morning I had to head over to my mum's flat to prepare for the funeral. One lane of the M25 was open and as most other drivers had decided to stay at home, I was able to carefully make my way along to next exit and my mother's home. I got stuck a couple of times but made it there and back.
By this time, J's parents had made it to the hotel. While J and I prepared to go to the service, they took the children off to build snowmen.
Come the time of the funeral, we were lucky the hearse was a big old rear wheel drive model, managing to gently glide from flat to funeral. For the last few yards the funeral director got out to walk in front of the car, the poor man slipping and falling over in front of everyone.
There was something extra solemn about a funeral in the snow. Fortunately, mum was being cremated so there was no frozen grave to worry about. It was a sign of people's respect for her that many managed to travel so far in such bad conditions. We imagined mum being up above somewhere, watching over us, passing judgement on those who couldn't be bothered to make it!
On that day, my mother left two legacies. In front of friends and family I was shown to be a 'grown-up', looking after my elder sisters, organising a funeral and looking after my mother's estate. And my children, in particular my daughter, will always have happy memories of staying in a hotel and building snowmen.
You can see the landmarks of this blog entry in Google Earth by downloading this.
Last night, on Channel 4, there was a documentary entitled 'Gridlock', about the chaos caused on the roads by heavy snow on January 30th 2003. (Out of interest, it featured Jag of Route 79, whose journey home took hours that night).
It also happened to be the night before my mother's funeral.
The first we realised something was wrong was on the M25. We had heard forecasts of snow, and as the funeral was in North London we were glad we had taken the sensible decision to book into a hotel the night before. We set off from Kent in the afternoon, just in case the weather turned bad. We needed to get to junction 25 of the M25 and as we reach junction 27 it was snowing quite hard.
Pretty soon it was obvious that this was no ordinary snow flurry, the traffic ground to a halt. The distance we should have covered in about 10 minutes took almost 2 hours. I was in the car with my children and (my now ex-)wife J. J's parents were heading down from the north to meet us at the hotel, and phone conversations suggested they were experiencing similar weather and delays.
The M25 was soon a car park and the last few hundred yards of our journey along it was a cheeky crawl up the hard shoulder, as we were one of few trying to get off at that exit. We carefully followed the slippery local roads to our hotel and were very glad of our reservation – quite a few people were in reception who had decided to give up on their journeys and find a room for the night.
We checked in, found our room and a call to J's parents suggested that we go on to the restaurant and order dinner, they would catch up with us later. We ate, the meal punctuated with mobile phones ringing as stranded travellers checked on their families and vice versa. My eldest sister contemplated coming to join us at the hotel rather than risk her journey home, but realised that either destination would be equally difficult, and she would be stuck with nothing to wear for the funeral.
We returned to the hotel reception, where they were now turning people away as all the rooms were full. Having checked that they would keep J's parents' room for them, we went upstairs. By the time the children were ready for bed, J's parents still hadn't arrived. They assured us they would be there later but, rather than disturb us and the children, would wait to see us at breakfast.
The view from the window was a blanket of snow, in the distance a line of lorries parked on the M25. We went to sleep.
The next morning we awoke to find the white blanket was still covering everything. At around 6am my mobile rang. We assumed it was J's parents asking us when we wanted breakfast. In fact, it was the hotel calling to see if I still wanted the room I had booked - J's parents had spent the night in their car, on the motorway. Later that morning I had to head over to my mum's flat to prepare for the funeral. One lane of the M25 was open and as most other drivers had decided to stay at home, I was able to carefully make my way along to next exit and my mother's home. I got stuck a couple of times but made it there and back.
By this time, J's parents had made it to the hotel. While J and I prepared to go to the service, they took the children off to build snowmen.
Come the time of the funeral, we were lucky the hearse was a big old rear wheel drive model, managing to gently glide from flat to funeral. For the last few yards the funeral director got out to walk in front of the car, the poor man slipping and falling over in front of everyone.
There was something extra solemn about a funeral in the snow. Fortunately, mum was being cremated so there was no frozen grave to worry about. It was a sign of people's respect for her that many managed to travel so far in such bad conditions. We imagined mum being up above somewhere, watching over us, passing judgement on those who couldn't be bothered to make it!
On that day, my mother left two legacies. In front of friends and family I was shown to be a 'grown-up', looking after my elder sisters, organising a funeral and looking after my mother's estate. And my children, in particular my daughter, will always have happy memories of staying in a hotel and building snowmen.
You can see the landmarks of this blog entry in Google Earth by downloading this.
posted by Anonymous at 10:22
1 Comments:
Beautiful story. Thanks for this. It got me thinking about my Mum's funeral - a long while ago now. I remember being glad it was raining on the day, as sunshine would have felt very odd.
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