Fog

Fog. Scary stuff. Being a Londoner you might expect me to be familiar with proper soupy fogs (why always PEA soup?) but in reality London fogs don't happen any more. They were a product of their time, I think - all that industry and revolution. People are too lazy for fogs now, and anyway, the tube will protect them. So fogs are now the province of the provinces. And driving to our riding lesson the other evening after dark was quite hairy. My car, bless it, is lovely, but I had to replace a headlight bulb recently and never got round to re-aligning the headlights. So it is a bit wall-eyed. On top of that there is a loose connection somewhere so it is temperamental too and only shines full beam when it feels like it.
Occasionally you might get a flash of light illuminating a tree to your right but the road ahead remains a dark mystery, lit by the solitary lamp of my beleaguered vehicle.

I had only been down this particular country lane once before and that had been in daylight (with no fog), so it came as no surprise to me that we had difficulty finding the riding school. What surprised me was the fog. Really. Very thick in some places and misty in others, but all of it was enough to make me rue the day I ever picked up a James Herbert book. I love a misty morning and saw many of them when I was doing shift work, but a night-ride to hell is somewhat different. It was easy to imagine fingers of fog making their insidious way through the openings and vents in the car, reaching malignantly with their cold dampness, layering around our warm hearts and squeezing slowly...

With flashes of roadside visible from the corner of my eye whenever my wayward headlamp decided to join the party, my lone straight beam reflected off the dense fog. For once I felt justified in using my rear fog lamp. Since it was pitch dark, during the sparser patches I needed full beam. At one point my travelling companions both shouted in unison 'Roundabout!' as I'd been heading for it at full speed (thirty) without having seen the sign announcing its presence. I think we all needed a drink by the end of that journey. And as it turns out, the microclimate in which I live is well known for its fog. Fantastic. Lots more hair-raising adventures to look forward to. Watch this space.