Trakless waste no more


This is the week that I selected to take time off to write my college essay. Good, because I haven’t had to face the commute-struggle through the snow; bad, because I don’t want to heat the whole house during the day just for me. And heckety crumpets has it been cold scampering down unheated stairs into an unheated kitchen to get a cup of tea. Tea that has already cooled to drinkable in the 90 seconds it takes to get back up the stairs.

Yesterday morning I was at my desk wondering, not for the first time, whether postcolonial theory constitutes a critique of globalisation or is simply one of its manifestations, when over the whirr of my new best friend the fan heater, I heard a roaring in the street. Up I popped, raring for a distraction, and found that the street in front of the house had become an icy skid pan. For the next couple of hours my reverie would be punctured regularly by the bellow of someone revving the bollocks off their engine while sliding slowly, inexorably backwards down the hill. That Mark from number six isn’t bashing dents out of his unluckily parked car is nothing short of a miracle.

Later, there was a pounding at the front door, and a cherry-cheeked postie handed me a small parcel. I yelped with delight. The Yak Trax are here! Now, I know we’ve been through some unfortunate purchases in the past. That catsuit fiasco is still a fresh wound, and in the bottom of my wardrobe there reside two astonishingly ugly and rubbish trainers, because I was fool enough to believe that MBTs would improve my posture. Absurd, but that’s what happens when you read magazines.

Anyway, the Yak Trax had come on the recommendation of a trusted friend. They’re like a rubberised cat’s cradle that you stretch over the bottom of your shoes/boots and they give you traction when walking over snow and ice. And when you go inside you can whip them off and shove them in your pocket. They are chuffing amazing. Last winter, outside Lidl, I slipped on my arse and gave myself such a wallop my osteopath could afford to redecorate his waiting room. Not three hours ago I strode over that very spot with a wink and a grin, despite the thick ice and heavily falling snow. Huzzah!

Will they compensate for the fact that I’m very unlikely to make it to Dublin tomorrow to see my mates Annie and Michael and their play at the Abbey? Will they buggery, but still. Got to look on the bright side.


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