Took the kids to school in the car this morning. Had been planning to walk through the snow, since the side roads here are so treacherous - Warwickshire - but couldn't find boots for one idiot son, who, as soon as we started off down the road, managed to trip over and get his trousers soaked. So back in we went, and by the time we reemerged, the car was the only option.
On the way home, a journey which usually takes about three to four minutes but which took a majestic twenty-five minutes this morning, I took a right turn and found myself - and the car - sliding swan-like across a sheet of black ice. Luckily no one was in front of me, because I had no control whatsoever.
I ended up, thanks to the dodgy camber of the road, on a downhill slope, thudding to an abrupt stop against a high grassy kerb - where my first thought was, how the hell am I going to get out of this?
I eased it into reverse, and thanks to the foresight of the car driver behind, who had left me plenty of room for my spectacular skid, managed to back up the slope out of the black ice, and onto the infinitely safer slush at the centre of the road. From there, I limped home at 5 mph, a little shaken but happy to discover only a scratch on the front bumper at the end of it.
I'll be walking the kids home this afternoon though. Wet trousers or not.