ice ice baby.

Yo! Vip! Alright, stop collaborate and listen... ice is back and there ain't no grittin.
Hey!
Home-girl!
I is rappin, awight?
Actually, this is a complaint against the council. Official. Harringay you are useless, useless USELESS.
The school texts us at 8am "School is open, we expect you to bring your children to school for normal hours, do not skive despite the fact that you will probably break your legs / wrists / skull in the attempt to reach us. We don't care, we have attendance figures to create. See you in 45 mins, or else... Love, Headmistress from the House of Officious Kitten Heel."
Or its something like that.
So, dutifully obeying the powers that rule, we tog up to the nines in tights, trousers, vests, long sleeved t-s, jumpers, jumpers over jumpers, coats over jumpers, scarves over coats and hats/gloves over other exposed parts. Boots on. Door open. We face the ice.
And this is not ice that you take out of the freezer and put into your G&T at 5pm. Oh no. This is ice that is out to get you. It wants you to slip. It wants you to fall across its black shiny brilliance. And there must be a reason why the council therefore has left it on the pavement and roads? They're either trying to kill us outright (population booming out of control) or they want to teach us to pay our council taxes accordingly and not fair dodge on the number 29 bus. Whatever, it seems an extremely harsh way to teach us lessons.
So, we hobble slip stamp screech our way down our ice-piste, clinging onto each other, laughing out of fear, watching the cars career totally out of control down our road (its very steep, I may not have mentioned before that it's a bit like a ski jump but instead of landing in powdery snow at the bottom with an adoring audience you land in Tesco Metro or their double-length delivery truck that blocks Green Lanes at critical moments of the day) - I've seen one bump into another car (parked only in front of mine - I was ready to step in the way to protect my poor inert Volvo, but I was flat out on the floor eating wee-d on ice...) (not really, I fell over later, but I like to exaggerate for effect). Mol really loves it. Adventure! Snow! Ice! It's like being in a film mum! Liz really hates it: 3 year olds with short legs who are wrapped in 12 layers are not made for walking on slippery ice death traps. Poor Liz. She was actually trembling with fear. So after walking a little bit I did the charitable motherly thing and picked her up.
It was all going OK-ish, (a walk that usually takes 5 minutes took 15 because of the councils LACK OF CONCERN FOR ITS RESIDENTS) and slowly slowly we were approaching the Institution of the Kitten Heel Mistress crossing the last road - when WOOSH - and I'm on my knees, Liz is flat on the floor beside me, school bags galore, and an exhaust pipe but 10cm from my nose.
Sore sore sore knees. Pride - where have you gone? (up the exhaust I should think) Liz - completely hysterical (doesn't like cars, now is ice-phobic, has a sore back where we fell). Mol a bit like: where's mum gone? Oh, she's on the floor.
School bell ringing.
And the cloak of death sweeping over us as cars skid towards us uncontrolled over the perma-ice covering the road.
Some kind gentleman scraped me up, and Liz up, and my bags up, and I unbended my bent knee, and we hobbled on through the school gates... Where La Mistress de La Heel Kitten was waiting, all smiles and red lips and Mrs Adams-Family strange grey hair streak...
Did she realise what she was calling us to?
The journey home was even more bloody. Although no one in my party fell - it, and here I exaggerate not, took 1/2 hour to get home.
She, the messenger of the Council, summoning us to our near-calamity accidents... She rocks up in a nifty sports car to school. Us parents stupid enough to bring our kids to school when summoned suffer the consequences, not she:- well, tomorrow, unless there is a big thaw (in my mood and the ice) she can shove attendance figures up her squeaky little kitten heeled arse.
Read it and weep authority!
PS grit the bloody pavements. If not for us young-er ones, at least for the oldies who must be getting low on denture securer by now. Its just not on.