Going up Telegraph Hill coming Down!

It was about 10.15 at night, the cold of the snow damp air bit into my lungs as I tried in vain to run after the car. She couldn't stop, if she had she'd never get going again without another push and I had just about pushed myself out. Vehicles lined up behind us slowly edging themselves away from the long night behind. Men with 4x4's and good old Land Rovers were waiting at the top for those, like us that got into difficulty, good men.

It was a winters day, cold, biting cold in the wind, we left the sea behind and went to Exeter, the Mermaids car needed a service, and when you have one of those cars that speak to you, you have to take them to those garages with carpets and lots of glass windows, where they offer you coffee while telling you the cost. It was getting colder.

My baby boy, Charlie, lives at Teignmouth with his young lady, so while in the area I thought it would be nice to call upon them, after all Teignmouth is not far from Exeter, just up and over Telegraph Hill. Why does that all sound so simple?

Having no transport for the rest of the morning; it was going to take the garage all morning to shampoo and condition the car, we Parked and rode into the city, where we were at the mercy of the Sales!! I prefered the book shop option and was lost for an hour or more in Waterstones. The cold became damp as rain began to filter its way down, the impending forecast for snow looked doubtful, but you never know just what's around the next bend.

Time slips by and it was back to the garage we went, the Mermaid handed over her purse and cried a little, or was it cursed a little, every sailor knows the power of a mermaids curse! Off we went looking for the coast.

At first it was just rain but as we climbed towards Ashcombe Cross it was snow, a little, a bit more and then a settling, traffic faultered as the slip road to the coast was closed, cars began to creep, warily along, while others blazed passed in an almost irreverent fashion, destined for insurance claims and apologies. We switched the radio to BBC Radio Devon, hoping for updating forecasts. The Mermaids newly serviced car did a little sliding act so we took the brave decision to forego Teignmouth and head back to the Northern end of the county, which meant another scale of Telegraph Hill.

If everyone had remained in the left hand lane and steadily climbed the hill then maybe, just maybe.... but it wasn't to be. Some people just wanted to get there quicker than the rest, wherever there may have been. Slowly we ground to a halt, an icy, snowbound, chillingly silent halt.

Radio Devon announced to all that were listening that two hills outside of Exeter, Halden Hill and Telegraph Hill, had become blocked due to the snow. Hundreds of cars, vans, lorries and whatever else were unable to move, the conditions were bad, the snow was still falling, the emergency services were on their way. We sat and sat and sat and while we sat we listened and waited. The cars behind waited. Those ahead waited, we all waited.

Some people can just sit and wait, content to worry away the night, tapping on their mobile phones letting the loved ones into the secret of their predicament, while others wrap in hats and coats and sleep, hoping to wake when it's all over and they're home in the warm. Meanwhile Radio Devon gallantly gathers the troops and settle down for a long night of exposure, keeping up the war spirit with a constant flow of updates and text messages from family to loved ones and loved ones to family.

Not being one of those, happy to wait types, I did a 'Captain Oates' and just went outside, I may be sometime,' I left the mermaid in the warm of her car and went in search of answers. I first found a rather excited police officer, who laughingly said, "We don't get a disaster very often, we've got to make the most of it.' I wondered about him. The only other officer on scene had his finger in his ear attempting to listen to, 'Silver Commander,' our unseen hero. This officer, from a hesitant start became the lifeline of the night, a true to life, on the freezing scene saviour. Together we walked back down the hill knocking on peoples windows explaining the situation as it was and battled to free up the right hand lane of vehicles so that the snow ploughs could save the day.

Mermaids need water. Being sat in a car for hour after hour tends to upset their inner balance, they begin to really need the loo!! and on occasion, especially when the opportunity arises, they tell everyone through Radio Devon of their plight! Thank goodness for the dark.

Six and a half hours into the night we were flooded by blue and amber flashing lights, Ploughs, gritters, mountain rescue, unmarked police Range Rovers, swept by like a trailer from an American disaster movie, 'Terror on Telegraph Hill!!' One by one vehicles began to move off, waved out by important, high viz tabbarded highway men. The end was sighted. Just the long journey across the wilds of Devon to navigate. It's a good job I had a mermaid on the helm.