If things can go wrong...

I arrived home on my motorbike from work this morning at about 2.am with the temperature a degree or so above absolute zero. 

    It never gets cold in England people say. Including me, a veteran of five arctic winters where minus 70 degrees was not in the least unusual.

    My sensible/selfish wife had gone to bed by that time so after stumbling over one cat and being scratched for my impertinence, while ignoring the sneer of the other other, lounging elegantly over the sofa I set to thawing the blood which had ceased flowing an hour earlier. 

    It's a good job I'm not working today. It was five o'clock before I was warm enough to fall into bed without being punched by an irate, and warm wife who doesn't like being drained of her bodily heat by a freezing husband - she's a bit touchy about that kind of thing.

    If it hasn't gone, I'll be forced to find alternate means of getting into London tomorrow. 

    At least here, all we have to deal with irate traffic wardens and not rampaging elk. Although I did see a giant woman (I think) affixing a ticket to the screen of a gigantic truck. I think I'd prefer the wildlife. They can only kill you.