h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Yesterday, we had light snow showers predicted, and sure enough, snow came swirling past the windows every so often but did not settle. I was to be heading to Folkestone for a rehearsal of When Midnight Strikes with costumes after work, so had half of costume on (trousers and shoes) and the other half with me as it would have been too flashy to weat at work (I did, of course, have other clothes on...). Got on the bus, and before long we had ground to a halt. The driver announced a change of route to Folkestone and I had to text to say I'd be late. A while later, and we began to see snow. Real snow on the ground and the roads and so forth. And then we stopped at the top of a hill.

"Sorry", said the bus driver "I can't take you any further, as there are loads of abandoned cars on the hill." We couldn't turn back either, so we had to get out and walk. Through unfamiliar territory, down a steep hill, in heavy snow. My shoes were, to say the least, impractical, and I kept slipping over. An hour or so later, I made it into central Folkestone, realised busses wouldn't be going *anywhere* and thought I may as well pop in to the rehearsal on my way to the train station. I was greeted with immense enthusiasm, even though they were winding up. I did a bit of work, then headed to the station after promising to let them know how my journey went.

It didn't. The trains had given up a couple of hours before I got there, when I was still on the bus. I stayed hopeful until 11pm, when I had to admit defeat. I was stuck. After texting my fellow actors, I was told to join them in the pub and I was welcome to stay over. So I waded, slipped and slid my way back down Folkestone High Street to join them. Once again, I was greeted with enthusiasm (this time tinged with alcohol, of course), which was partly driven by the facty that they were planning to go clubbing and thought it would be the Best Thing Ever if I went. They were happy to deposit me in their flat if I wanted, but knowing that their return eould wake me up anyway, I thought "why not?" OK, so I hadn't been to a club for at least 10 years, OK so I don't ever drink to get drunk, OK so I was tired, but for some reason it seemed like a good idea. Back out into the snow we went, heading for the nightclub and gradually turning into walking snowmen and snowwomen.

And so it was that I found myself in a wee nightclub, dancing with a group of students (or rather, attempting to dance), discovering that nightclub floors really are as sticky as legend has it (I knelt down for a photo) and shocking them when I soon switched to non-alcoholic beverages as I knew I'd be working the next day. I actually rather enjoyed myself, at least while the DJ played music I was familiar with. Footloose, Queen, classic cheese, that sort of thing. None of that modern hippety hop for me.

When we left, we found that the snow had turned into a major blizzard and there were already between 2 and 3 inches laying. After the obligatory kebab stop-off, which I opted out of, I had the immense enjoyment of climbing a smallish hill with a group of inebriated performing arts students, certainly an experience never to be forgotten. I was in the rearguard, as I had to help one of them up step by step, which she was very grateful for. Between my slippy shoes, the slope, the snow and her slight mental fogginess, it was quite a trek. We did eventually crest the rise, to the impatient joy of the others, and made our way to the place where I would be spending the night. Everyone stayed for a little while, then eventually those of us staying there could retire. Sadly, I didn't manage to sleep, but did at least get to lie down and switch odd in the warmth.

All too soon, I had to creep out of bed, so as not to disturb the other guy sleeping over in the same room as me, and attempt to get to the sparkly new learning centre. At 07.10, I left the house, and was immediately stepping in snow up to, and sometimes beyond, my ankles. On reaching my destination, I found that nowhere had been gritted and was adviused by the man on duty that nothing would be running, so I should just go home and enjoy a day off work. "But I can't go home!" I wailed inwardly. I couldn't even really return to the flat, as everyone else was asleep when I left and I would hate to wake a group of people who were probably rather hung over. I trecked to the train station once more, slipping over a few more times in increasingly comic fashion. Of course, the trains were all listed as 'delayed', but what else could I do but wait? It was 07.30 and I was due to start work at 09.00. The journey between Folkestone and Canterbury normally takes between 40 and 60 minutes.

I finally walked into the office, tired but triumphant at 12.30, having been on three different trains and having passed through Folkestone twice, once heading to Dover and once heading to Ashford. I had sat on a high-speed train that did nothing for half an hour, I had admired the wintry view in more spots than I care to remember, and I had eaten more rubbish from vending machines than I probably should have done. Tonight, I shall eat, bathe my aching muscles and go to bed early. I did enjoy spending the night with my student friends, even if it was not how I would ever, ever, normally spend a night. I loved looking at the snow and walking through it, whether in pristine stillness or mad blizzard. It was a day of experiences that took me out of my comfort zone and demonstrated a serious stubborn streak. But frankly, I'd rather not repeat it!

Being stranded is usually awful. At least you managed to make a social occasion out of it! And I don't hold with hippety-hop either.

That does sound like quite the adventure.
I'm glad you enjoyed the enjoyable bits and wish you a deep and peaceful sleep tonight.

You had quite an adventure. Glad you semi-enjoyed it. Everything was shut down for just 3 inches of snow? Good grief.

The only way in or out of Folkestone is via hills, which became impassable very quickly, shutting off bus routes. The trains are harder to explain, but they just seem to have panic attacks in the snow and fail left, right and centre. Much of the 5-hour return journey was spent waiting for trains that had broken down to be cleared out of our way.

I'm slightly concerned that they'll expect me to go clubbing regularly from now on - I simply don't have the stamina. Or maybe not. The phrase of the night was "I can't believe that David, *DAVID*, is in The Priz!"

We might make a good scout of you yet! Take that as praise! (and yes, scouts can party. Preferably without hippity-hop, too)

Can't be a Scout, I'm afraid, Santra, as I'm a Boys' Brigade guy. Queen's Badge and everything. Membership of both organisations would be considered quite shocking!

I just don't get hippity-hop. Is it an age thing? I do hope not at my tender age.

What an epic adventure! Sleep very, very well tonight

Mol

It may not be the same kind of problem where you live, David, but my chief exposure to hip-hop is by means of a car proceeding down the street emanating sonic-boom like bass notes. Sometimes it makes the glasses rattle in the sideboard as they cruise past.

So all I really hear is BOOOOMM BOOOOMM BOOOOMM BOOOOMM with some sort of treble racket discernible only when they come abreast of the house, that waxes and wanes like the whistle of a speeding train.

That's the kind of thing my dad used to say about the Who or even the Beatles...