Last week I opened the curtains of my hotel room in France and thought ‘oh look, it’s sno -ohhhhh’. My usual feelings of wonder and delight about the white stuff were brought crashing down by the realisation that it might just get in the way of my long awaited flight back home with LTN. Could little planes fly in thick falling snow? Was Grenoble as good at clearing it’s runways and roads as it did oughta be? I had no idea. Luckily LTN knows planes and followed up his ‘don’t look out of the window, it might just spoil your day’ text with a more reassuring ‘don’t worry, it’ll all be on instruments, they’ll be fine’. Which they were and we got home in some style thanks to lady pilot Jane. LTN was even allowed to sit up and look out of the windows and watch the dials do the their things, which satisfied his pilot heart a little bit, although he was grumpy that he didn’t get to borrow a headset and listen to all the chat.
And so, we’re back in the UK and most grateful for it, though we can’t speak highly enough of the hospital and staff in Grenoble – and maybe miss our strange little ‘family’ there just un petit peu. We’re now camping out at his parents’ as their house is more suitable for his current mobility levels than our Brizzle home, so on Saturday I did a run down there with double Dads (mine and his) to pick up cars and all the other nonsense we need for achieving a semblance of normality.
It started to snow on the way back up in my roaring and rattly little workhorse of a car and then dumped a whole lot more during the evening. Gorgeous, beautiful, fun to play in, but it’s effectively trapped LTN in the house since we don’t want him falling from his great height and opening the beautifully healing zip in his back or owt like that. Somehow it just doesn’t seem so appealing to play in the snow with him sitting at home.
And all this means that I’m trying to remember just how much I usually love England in the snow……….this helps: