The snow problem

I was woken at just after 7.30 one morning by my alarm clock.

‘Strange,’ I thought to myself, ‘Alun usually wakes me before now on his way back from the early morning boat. I wonder what’s delayed him.’

I quickly dressed and rushed downstairs to find out what was going on. Looking out the window I realised it had snowed heavily during the night; the island was thick with two feet of snow. Looking out at the surrounding ocean there was no sign of life, the sea was thrashing wildly, it was unlikely that even someone as determined as the Boatman would have set out in weather like this. Maybe Alun made the same assumption and had stayed in.

I tried phoning Alun on his mobile, but there was no signal. In all the years I’ve known him he’s never missed the morning boat, he’s never failed to call on me with news, gossip and mad ideas. I looked out at the weather, as well as the snow on the ground there was a blizzard blowing – any thought of going out to visit Alun was removed from my mind. It was far too hazardous and horrible.

I called in my geep, who rushed through the door at the first opportunity, into the extension I had built especially for weather like this, a sort of inner-shed/geep pen. I fed the geep before my own breakfast, three different types of coffee – I find that solid food in the morning disagrees with me first thing.

I switched on the computer to send an email to Alun, and see perhaps if he’d sent a message to me, but there was no internet signal either. However, there was no time to wish away the day, I had chores to do, milking the geep and washing up the breakfast things.

The hours passed. The snow was unrelenting. I tried going outside just to check that Alun hadn’t collapsed midway between his house and my house, but I’d left it too late – the snow was so thick I could no longer open my door. I would have to wait for the snow to relent.

I tried phoning again, but there was no signal. However, I had more luck with the internet and was able to get online and sent Alun a brief message, asking him to email or call me back to let me know he was alright.

With no Alun to disrupt me I had time to return to my long-abandoned novel. However, the ideas didn’t flow, and I sat in front of the computer screen for a long time, admiring the pure beauty of the blank page, before giving up. I had a lunch of three different teas and four different coffees, which I drank whilst looking out at the ocean, which was swirling wildly, as if auditioning for the storm scene in an upcoming Hollywood blockbuster, but alas there were no studio executives in sight and the storm raged redundantly on and on.

I tried the internet again, but the brief window of connection with the outside world had passed, without any message from Alun. I tried his phone again, but that too was still dead. I tried to spy on Alun’s house from my top window, using the binoculars I had been given on my eighteenth birthday, but there was no visibility beyond the initial swirl of white flakes.

Suddenly the power went. Happy Island produces its own electricity, a mixture of wind and wave power, though for some reason this power source failed us on this, the windiest, waviest day of the year.

With no electricity to cook with I had to find an old camping stove I keep in one of the lesser cupboards, and heat up a couple of cans I keep for just such an emergency.

With no power, I was effectively trapped in the front room in front of the fire, in which I toasted some bread to have as a charcoal accompaniment to the cans and listened to the elements doing their best to topple the house. Outside the blackness of night obscured the all-consuming white of snow.

The electricity returned in time for me to heat a mug of geep’s milk for my bedtime drink, and to try the internet again, though to no avail. I made on last attempt to open the front door, but the outside world remained lost to me. I tried Alun’s phone once more, leaving yet another message, but again he failed to answer.

The wind was still howling and the snow still strutting it’s funky stuff all over the sky, when I retired to bed.

Hopefully, come morning, the snow will have relaxed and I would be woken by Alun, with news of things he couldn’t possibly know. Otherwise, whatever the weather, I would brave the elements and journey to his house.

I lay in bed, not sleeping, for a long, long time.