Ealing North
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Steve Pound MP Ealing North |
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A Cold ReceptionJanuary 2004 Speeding across a frozen lake on a sleigh pulled by a dozen savage Swedish dogs in temperatures of minus 37°C didn’t allow much time for thought but I did allow myself the question – what on earth am I doing here? It all started when my late mother-in-law’s will was read and we learned that while there would be a good chunk of cash heading towards the RAF Benevolent Association there would be a little something left for Mrs.P.and her three brothers. Determined not to do anything sensible with the money we consulted the little darlings and were mildly gob smacked to learn that they had long harboured a desire to spend a night in some frozen hell known as the Ice Hotel. Nothing could dissuade them and just before Christmas we found ourselves in Lappish territory on the roof of the world above the Arctic Circle and in a land where minus 20°C is seen as an excuse to fling off your clothes and sing Abba songs. We landed at Kiruna and I have never felt such cold. As my eyebrows froze I have heartfelt thanks to the late Mr.Jameson for inventing internal central heating and to many neighbours who had lent me the layers of wool that stood between me and certain death. This may be too much information for “Gazette” readers but I often used to wear Mrs.P’s tights under my trousers during cold commutes on the motorbike and I thought that I had experienced cold. If only I had known! As we only had a couple of days we rushed into the reindeer herding and skimobile rides. The boy proved that he was a natural lassoer of reindeer but, sadly, this is a profession with few openings in Hanwell so I had to gently break it to him that it was not the best career path to settle on. My daughter showed the sort of courage that only someone who canvassed for the Labour party while still in a buggy can boast of. Clinging on to me as I rammed the snowmobile into a series of pine trees that suddenly leaped out in front of me would test anyone’s nerves but she was either unconscious with fear, frozen or quietly confident that Dad would finally get the hang of it. The highlight (!) was a night in a hotel built entirely of ice and old vodka glasses. We actually slept on reindeer skins atop a block of ice and when it all became too much for my daughter she crept out for a hot glass of fruit juice and found that it had frozen into by the time she got back to “bed”. Never again will I complain about the cold – and never again will I agree to my children’s choice of holiday, at least until the next time. |
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| Disclaimer | Copyright | Designed by Bassam Mahfouz. Promoted by Julian Bell, The Labour Party, Ruskin Hall, 16 Church Road, W3 8PP on behalf of Steve Pound MP |
