Some years ago, long before the 'globule worming'/'clumit chinge' scam started, (to make lots of people very, very rich at the British Citizen's expense) Scrobs was working for a great company in London! This was the London of the nineteen-eighties, when it was a vibrant capital city, full of promise, and, business prospects were damned good! Sadly that's all changed now, but as I've vowed never to go there again, I'm not all that bothered!
But, because our construction prospects were very positive, my people were enjoying a huge bonus and we expanded our generosity to delivering - by car and hand - some Christmas Hampers to valued clients! We usually took these to their private addresses, as to wander into an office with such a huge, rustling and clinking gift might have caused some jealousy, even outrage and physical harm, so I obtained everyone's home address, and we all set off in different directions, a day or so before the big day!
Everything went swimmingly up to Christmas Eve, and I had one last hamper to deliver, to an address, which I mistook on my ancient A-Z as North East London, and on arrival at the road, discovered nobody had ever heard of the actual house! After some frantic phone calls in a freezing phone box, I then discovered that the house was in fact, far out in Essex, on the North Sea coast, not far from Norway or somewhere even colder...
What I haven't mentioned, is that a few days before, there had been a Mother of snowstorms, and parts of the country were seriously snowed in, with many roads impassable! I had only really been delivering in London and the suburbs, and this was a bit of a concern, as Essex had really taken the brunt of the storm, and it was the middle of the afternoon...
So, the Scrobmobile was pointed East, and as the extremities of East London vanished in the rear mirror, so the snowdrifts were piling higher and higher, all along the A12...
I won't say I started to panic, because I could have turned round, but loyalty to one's friend and business contact made my decision to press on a bit of a challenge, and anyway the roads didn't look all that bad!
And it was true! Essex County Council had done a superb job in clearing all the snow from the carriageway - there was some cautious driving needed of course, and I still remember seeing drifts over six ft. high on both sides of the car! The only issue which kept niggling me, was that IF, anything had gone wrong, I'd not be home in time for Christmas the following day...
And that became more of a worry as the A12 finished, and the by-roads began!
Hmmmm...
My friend's address seemed a long way off, but I thank him to this day, for living in a very smart village, with a recognisable road name, a decent house name, and a cleared drive, all ready for me to ring the bell! I've liked East Essex ever since!
The trip back was one of little adventure, the Santa bit had been accomplished, and all I had to do was negotiate the Dartford Tunnel, (this was 1983 - no bridge), and be home in time for the big day!
The sad loss of Chris Rea has subliminally reminded me of this quite nerve-wracking trip, hence the song at the beginning! RIP.
May I wish everyone who visits here, a very Happy Christmas, and a Prosperous New Year - and thank you for all your kind comments!
