LH Confidential

Jan 22 2010 by Lorraine Howard, Irvine Herald

RIGHT, we’ve seen the picture postcard scenery, the peaks of Goatfell in Arran looking like a snapshot from Aspen but I hope I wasn’t alone in saying, “please snow, go away.”

I never thought I would be like that. When I was young I prayed for the snow to lie and yes, it is beautiful when you’re tucked up in the cosy comfort of your house and admiring it from afar but the cold and harsh reality is that it has caused havoc for everyone.

I do have my reasons for this:

Firstly, the wrong type of snowflake lands on the rail track and the entire train service of the west of Scotland is sent haywire.

Secondly, the lack of foresight from the council regarding the gritting of our pavements and streets. I went to Goldcraigs depot and I saw the tiny mound of salt that was left – the council’s excuse of being unable to predict the weather doesn’t wash with me. Why is it that other countries don’t grind to a halt when they suffer snowfalls too?

So, my love for the picturesque Ayrshire snow scene soon melted I’m afraid.

And then, just as I thought life was getting back to some sort of normality and journeys didn’t have to be meticulously planned, the thaw brought the most trouble for me.

It will sound selfish but I was one of those homes who had problems with heating and then my water supply disappeared for two days.

But for me, it felt like two years and I fear my lack of bathing facilities nearly pushed me over the edge – it felt like the end of the world.

Now, how terrible in this day and age to go on like that about having no water when people in some parts of the world have to walk miles to get a tiny drop of water and here was me in floods of tears because I couldn’t wash my hair.

Suddenly, as far as I was concerned, my life was over for the simple reason that I couldn’t have my bath. Misery reigned and despite me phoning the water board and then continually keep going to sinks in the house to turn taps on, I was in the depths of despair.

It taught me how much we take everyday luxuries for granted, from flushing a loo to putting a washing machine on and getting dishes done. It is a disgrace that a problem like this – on the scale of things a minor one – this week felt like the end of the world.

On Wednesday night I almost cried with relief as water came spurting out the bathroom tap – that was it, within two minutes the clothes were off, the bubble bath opened and I was in. Bliss.