It was a lifeline. It was able to quicklyclear the lane up to the croft and a pathway to the fields and onto the feedbunks. In years gone by, during heavy snowfall, we were literally cut off fromcivilisation for days or sometimes weeks at a time with the lane beingcompletely backed up and blocked with snow. (The winters up here can be long,harsh, and unforgiving). This made it very difficult for us to get any suppliesin or any deliveries of animal feed etc. But, no more!
It was an expensive purchase last year. Ican remember listening to the debacle between my parents as to whether it was agood investment or not. It had paid off. The animals all remained in a goodshape throughout the winter months, and we only had a couple of casualties whodidn’t make it through to the spring.
At the start of this winter, father setabout teaching me how to use it. “You’re old enough now so I might as well makeuse of you,” so he politely informed me. I did not relish spending time withhim whilst he went over the instructions, but it wasn’t too hard to operate andactually quite good fun. There was also a real sense of satisfaction at the endwhen you had cleared a large area. The downside was if there were frequentdumpings of heavy snow you were right back to it.
Father had indicated mid-week that hewanted me out on the snowblower at the weekend (since we were already coveredin a thick blanket), so this is when we seized the opportunity to put our planinto action.
There are two things you have to be reallywary of when it comes to snowblowers. Firstly, injuries to the hands are verycommon when unclogging snow from the discharge chute. This often can involveamputations as the blades easily slice through fingers. This can happen evenafter the engine is switched off as the blade can still move. Secondly, youmust be wary of rocks and sticks being caught up in the blower and shooting outfrom the chute in a direction which could injure someone when projected.
Caroline was in her element. We had talkedat great length about how we were going to execute our plan.
“OK,” she says, voice animated withexcitement, “let’s run through it one more time.” Early Saturday morning we hada final chat, with Caroline taking the lead. “Are you quite happy you know whatyou are doing, Thomas? We want to make sure we clear the pathways effectivelybut some strategically placed rocks and large sticks as you near the end of theclear up job will have the desired effect. The chute will be clogged up withthe snow and debris and we will have to shout on father to help unblock it.”
“Got it,” I say, interrupting hermid-flow.
“OK good. Now, yourepeat back to me the full plan, start to finish.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes as we’vealready been through it so many times, so I give her the edited highlights.
“Like you say, Iclear the majority away then hoover up some large rocks and sticks at the endof the lane which will cause the chute to become blocked. I then call on fatherto unclog it and as he reaches his hand inside the chute, I fire the blowerback up. He either gets a finger or two sliced off or he gets a nasty smack inthe face when the debris ejects. Afterwards, I say it was a complete accident,my hand slipped.”
“Very good! Do you feel OK about goingthrough with it?” That was a good question. Do I? If you had asked me thatquestion when he was dishing out one of his punishments, I’d have had nohesitation. But to intentionally cause injury to him when at the time I am notbeing threatened myself, I don’t know where I sit with that. Not wanting toshow any sign of wavering whatsoever, I remain strong and steadfast.
“It’s not a problem, I’ll be able to seeit through.”
“Excellent, then let’s do this!”
James has said very little throughout ourrecent discussions, so I am not wholly convinced he is completely on board.Perhaps his nose is out of joint because we haven’t used any of hissuggestions. Although, at the same time, he hasn’t gone against the plan. We stuckwith the decision of not involving Juliet which we all agreed was for the best.
Normally I would have a large heartybreakfast before heading out on the snowblower but this morning I settled for asingle slice of toast, unsure I’d be able to keep anything else down. I hadbutterflies in my stomach and my heart rate had sped up dramatically. I couldliterally feel the pounding of my heartbeat in my chest and hear itreverberating in my ears. All of my senses were heightened. My biggest concernwas what was going to happen when I came up with the excuse that my hand hadslipped. That was the oldest line in the book, and I felt sure he would seeright through it. What then for me? Yes, he will undoubtedly sustain an injuryof some form but what will he do to me? It’s highly unlikely he’s going to buythat excuse. I knew it wasn’t ideal but there was a more determined voicewithin me telling me to press on, that it’ll be OK.
I had hoped to eat my toast and slip outun-noticed but no such luck. “Erm, where do you think you are disappearing awayto?”
“To make a start clearing the pathways,Sir.”
“Just hold your horses. You ain’t goingnowhere until I’ve given the blower a once-over so pipe down.” That’s me toldthen! He has one nasty scowl on his face, and it occurs to me at that momenthow hard it must be going through life as perpetually angry as he is, it mustreally weigh you down. I don’t want to stay here in his presence one moreminute than is absolutely necessary.
“Is it OK if I get myself
