…the happy grinding sound of metal studs cutting into solid ice.
Not a sound normally associated with a housing estate in Larbert, but as The Fatdog and I ground our way along ice coated pavements on our lunchtime dogwalk unsuspecting homeowners out clearing their driveways clamped their hands to their ears as sharp, penetrating, screeching screamed down ear canals and burst through unprotected eardrums.
Today The Fatdogs natural crampons were not finding a grip on the polished surface, with the odd random leg shooting out from under her. FD was lucky the permutation of various leg failures did not produce a total 4 leg collapse. Regretably I was deprived of that eagerly anticipated ”Bambi” moment.
My Spiders, on the other hand, were gripping most successfully…if a little noisily. The last remnant of loose snow had been washed off the surface of the ongoing slow thaw, leaving nothing but dull, grey, glassy ice. A slippery walk at 7am this morning had suggested that footwear for any future excursions had to be spiky to cope with the glacial pavements and paths around the estate and so, for the first time this winter, the little yellow hobnailed plates were strapped onto the old boots.
Making more noise than a 1960’s Glasgow Corporation bus I happily (and securely) stomped my way around our lunchtime route, the deafening squeals of steel on rock hard ice bouncing of exposed gable ends of houses whose owners were by now investigating improvements to sound insulation. For the first time in weeks we managed to scoot around our circuit in something approaching our normal, snow-less, speed.
We were nearly back at the house when I stopped dead at a road junction. I could hear a noise coming from behind…
Seconds later the local bus clanked past chugging its way up to the main road.