Colder Air

My absentee boss Gavin, erstwhile of this parish, has, in his infinite wisdom, asked me to meet him in Peterborough this afternoon for a meeting. He is still spending lots of his time down in the South-West, working on his shiny new project with the site down there, but he's also trying to keep an eye on the Suffolk Coast aspect of his empire, and for some reason it's fallen on me to provide an update, and for some reason he wants it face-to-face. One would have thought that we might take advantage of the many video-calling facilities that became so prevalent during the pandemic, but apparently not.
I suppose, reluctantly, I can admit to admiring his determination to stick to the old-fashioned ways, but I can also admit my frustration at being asked to drive nearly two hours on a day when the temperature is barely expecting to get above freezing, in a week when the icy surfaces have barely started to show a hint of melting.
In years gone by it wouldn't have bothered me, but I do find myself apprehensively checking the weather updates and dreading the drive back after dark. Maybe it's an age thing, or maybe being a responsible parent has led me to give more consideration to my own safety, lest my young 'uns be left with just their mum to provide for them. Or maybe it's the constant doom-laden, scaremongering bullshit that passes for British TV journalism these days brainwashing me into believe everything is a catastrophic crisis, so the merest hint of frost has me reacting like I'm about to drive into a ravine.
Either way, I thought I'd post this now in case I'm dead by the end of the day.

RC 13-12-22