Nelson Galaxy

He is waiting in the sky and he is going to dump a ton of snow on the roads and pavements.

Oh yes, it looks like the world has ended. In all my years of living in the capital I have never seen anything like this. The ground is covered in over a foot of weird cold white stuff. It is something the indigenous North European tribes call ’snow’.

I awoke to view post-Armageddon on the Mile End Road. There was a trickle of slow moving slushy traffic and limited white-pasted pedestrians. Icicles were hanging from my windows and boy was it cold. I wrapped up warm, in scarf and gloves, with Doc Martins on my feet.

Immediately, upon exiting my building, I was flat on my back. I got up, brushed myself down and proceeded to walk across London towards work. A few yards further and I was on my back again, and again, and again, and again.

“This is silly Nelson, you’re getting nowhere fast,” I said out loud and decided I should get a tube train. I slowly slid towards Whitechapel. What joy to discover the doors to the station were locked up nice and tight. I thought about the bus. Ah, no busses.

The next hour and thirty minutes were spent falling over, skidding, being hit by snowballs and becoming drenched by a freezing blizzard. Hey, I only fell over fourteen times. The most precarious part of my journey was the Millennium Bridge, which was doubling as a steep ski slope. A lonely council worker was unsuccessfully hacking a path through the ice with his shovel. Negotiating Bank bottleneck with ice underfoot was odd.

People, including grannies, were overtaking me. “Overtaking me, that’s just wrong,” I said as I fell over again. This is what it must feel like to walk to work in high heels; maybe I’ll try that next week.

I made it into the office, only twenty minutes late, to be presented with a totally empty work stations. Just me and all the ringing telephones. I log onto my PC and no systems are working. My gargantuan effort was for nothing. I cannot do any work and have to deal with screaming, angry clients.

I should go home but I’m too much of a professional. There is a blizzard outside, the air conditioning is -2 and there is the smell of burning in the stairwell. Welcome to the end of the world brother.