A Short Story Written By My Father When I Was In My Teens… Me & My Dad A Few Years Ago
I doubt I shall ever forget that particular night although it happened so many years ago now, or lose the taste of excitement and fear I felt that 17th December.
On the anniversary date and especially when it falls on a Monday, as this year, I feel irresistibly drawn back to the events of that evening and I am more than happy to surround myself with as many friends as possible.
I was on my way to a reunion celebration called by a close friend who had recently moved to a part of the country I was unfamiliar with. I set off cheerfully in the late afternoon and found his directions clear until I turned off the main road and began to negotiate the country lanes. The roads were very icy and it was already getting dark. I soon realized that I could be in some difficulty and I cursed myself for not starting out earlier. I pressed on, but to add to my troubles, it started to snow and rapidly developed into a blizzard, so that in the gathering gloom, even with the windscreen wipers going full out, I had great difficulty in seeing where I was going. Rounding a sharp bend, the car skidded right across the road out of control and I ended shaken but unhurt in a ditch. With the car lying on an angle of 45 degrees, I gingerly climbed out and with the aid of a torch, soon discovered that both nearside wheels were firmly embedded in mud right up to the axles.
There was nothing for it but to start walking and here I had the one stroke of luck of that whole dreadful night, for I had gone no more than fifteen minutes before I came upon a telephone box. This was as welcome for the brief respite from the blizzard as for the chance of securing help. My numbed fingers fumbled in my pocket book for my friend’s telephone number and mercifully I was soon through to him. He quickly confirmed my fears. It had been snowing there for some hours and he said it would be hopeless to attempt the ten miles to reach me. However, my plight was not desperate for he said that less than a mile from where I stood there was a large three star hotel where I could spend the night and he would hope to pick me up in the morning.
Revived in spirit that I had not far to go, I set off once more, peering through the gloom while endeavoring to find and keep to the highway. Suddenly, my head struck a large object with a loud crack and looking up in a semi-dazed condition, I saw that it was an inn sign, hanging at an angle by only one chain, so that it was three feet longer than it should have been. Holding my head with one hand, I brushed the snow from the sign with the other and read “The Invited Inn.”
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