SNOW MEMORY !963 It’s now fifty years since the M1 opened. In 1963, prior to New Years Eve, Angus and myself decided we’d hitch hike down the A1 road to London. There we intended to do the traditional jump in the fountain at Piccadilly Circus . It was so cold the driver of the unheated truck that picked us up couldn’t see through the windscreen. He kept having to stop and I would get out and rub the glass with the only thing I had, my hanky and sun tan oil. Why did I have suntan oil? Redheads live in dread of sun burn and we were going south. We were not worldly wise and we discovered on getting to Piccadilly Circus that there isn’t a fountain. We got the wrong spot we should have been in Trafalgar Square. Anyway it was freezing cold so we decided it was a bad idea and set off to hitch hike back home. We headed for the A1. It was snowing really very heavily. Because I wanted to fit in the London scene. I’d brought my umbrella with me. This protected my head but unfortunately I was wearing my best six guinea Bally, chisel toed, elastic sided, boots. The snow was so deep it was packed up the inside of my trouser legs. The road was thick with snow you couldn’t see the lanes. There was a wavy single track where some cars had struggled through. We didn’t see any traffic until a skidding police car pulled up and we were told hitch hikers were not allowed. We argued we always hitch hiked on the A1. They said we weren’t on the A1 we were on the M1. and to get off the road. They drove off. We couldn’t do anything but struggle on. It was a terrible trek. Occasionally a car would pick us up for a short distance. We’d take shelter at a service station overnight. There we met other stranded people. One guy tried to convince us he had a great business opportunity. It was to buy all, the now redundant Christmas trees, cheap and sell them to Burmese people whom he insisted had their Christmas later. He also insisted that after a hydrogen bomb was dropped radiation was harmless because it went above the clouds and couldn’t come back down. We pointed out this was completely wrong we knew because we’d read it. He replied by saying you couldn’t believe what you read. He’d read Alice in Wonderland and he didn’t believe a word. The chap was wearing a complete dark green bus conductors uniform. When I inquired about this he said he’d been sacked from his job and it was all he had to wear. While this bizarre conversation was going on a scrawny fellow asked if we could give him a cigarette. We pointed out we were fagless and broke. Later in the night he came over and gave us a cig each. Turned out he’d flogged his overcoat. Such is the desperation of the smoking addict and the camaraderie of the road. We were on that road for two days and ended up lost in Coventry. All the direction signs seemed to be missing. It was probably a left over from the war to confuse the Germans if they invaded. I often wonder if I’ve been on the wrong road ever since.Read
