I realise I have several days to make up as I’ve been neglecting my blog over the past few days. When I say neglecting, what I really mean is that I’ve been over indulging in the Christmas spirit and been too drunk to see the keyboard. I therefore have lots to report but I’ll try and keep it relatively short so that you don’t get too bored.

    The most important thing to happen was the imminent arrival of Mrs. Snowman’s daughter. Now you don’t have to worry, my DNA hasn’t contaminated the gene pool in any way; her offspring is the result of a previous relationship thereby leaving future generations free of Snowman biology.

    The idea was to drive to Heathrow airport, collect daughter, husband and small baby from the arrivals hall, drive back home and continue drinking.

    Unfortunately, the airport is shrouded in fog and in complete chaos. In England, any kind of moderate weather brings the entire country to a standstill. Three drops of rain and there are traffic jams filling every available inch of motorway, a snowflake falling somewhere near Manchester will bring every train to a complete halt in London but this is nothing in comparison to the havoc caused by our inability to cope with fog.

    Arrivals were delayed for hours whilst departures were cancelled altogether. You would think the airport employees would have first hand information of the arrivals status but you’d be wrong. After several attempts to find someone who spoke English as their first language and queuing for almost half an hour to reach the information desk I’m informed in a very rude manner “I can’t help you”. This was an unusual response from a customer service advisor so I tried a different tactic. “Ok, well can you check on your computer screen to see if Flight A*** has departed yet?”

    The employee lifted his knuckles from the floor and peered at the screen in a confused manner. It was clear that he didn’t really known how to use it and being asked to do more than one thing at the same time had overloaded his brain. I gave up and left him with a parting verbal swipe: “Thanks so much for your help, if I find your brain cell anywhere in the terminal I’ll hand it in to lost property”. Unbelievably it smiled back and said “Thank you”.

    I decided to wait in the most obvious place…the bar.

    After two hours and several lagers I’m in a slightly more relaxed mood and strike up a conversation with a very nice man with a laptop computer. Mrs. Snowman’s temper is deteriorating in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol I consume and by the time my tenth pint is ordered she’s practically homicidal. However, my new friend with the laptop has logged on to Heathrow’s web site and discovered what the employees don’t know. The incoming flight we’re waiting for has been cancelled and will not be re-scheduled until Christmas Eve.

    Now, there’s come a time in a stage of drinking when common sense is shoved to one side and bravado takes over. This occurred when, for some reason, I decided the flight cancellation was hysterically funny. Mrs. Snowman on the other hand found nothing amusing whatsoever with the information and lunged at me with a plastic Coca Cola bottle. I won’t go into details but an altercation followed which involved me being removed from the airport by a couple of security guards. They pointed out it was for my own safety as the wife was being restrained behind me, still trying to beat me round the back of the head.

    Obviously the wife drove home (in complete silence) and immediately commandeered the computer to obtain more flight information. I was therefore unable to play any poker so can’t report any crap play. Hopefully, my hangover will have subsided by the morning whereby I can sit at a few tables and lose some more money.

    One other revolting thing happened this evening. Mrs. Snowman has instigated an economy drive with the weekly shopping and bought very cheap lavatory paper instead of the usual soft double-layered luxury stuff. You may ask yourselves if I know this because it feels rougher or has a slightly different appearance. Nope, I know it due to a far more practical reason.

    My finger went straight through it mid-wipe.

    I only wish you could have seen the mother-in-law’s face when she got back from work and I shook hands with her.

Starting bank:  $0