Deep and crisp and even

Here I am, writing the folk club report when I should be at the folk club. I was to be in charge this week, since Colin is out and about barn dancing. Expecting a low turn-out I did quite a bit of advertising: some directed, some scatter-gun, so it was difficult to tell everyone that we were unlikely to have an effective session. The upshot was that I decided to put in an appearance if at all possible.

So, off I set, about 20 minutes earlier than usual: out of our village the first issue was the hill up to the motorway. I came to a halt, wary of an oncoming car and had difficulty getting going again. The motorway wasn't too bad - 30-40 miles per hour seemed reasonable. There were one or two stranded cars on the way and emergency vehicles around to help. The ring road wasn’t much worse than the motorway, and then I made my way up the road towards Pucklechurch. While it was easily navigable, there were stationary cars everywhere, presumably abandoned there last night. I should have been warned by the car trying to free itself from the Shortwood turning but no, I carried on for a little way, turned round and found it gone when I regained the turning. I turned in and was immediately and, so it seemed, irretrievably stuck.