Thankfully the snow has abated now but what a time we had! As mentioned in last week’s log (I call it a log and not a blog – nostalgic memories of Captain Kirk’s Log in Star Trek – and someone sent me an email recently, in all innocence, addressed to Father Frank Log) I brought my brother to hospital to see a consultant about his broken metacarpals. I had the car but we prudently decided to get the bus as overnight, Tuesday into Wednesday, the snow had come with a vengeance. The bus took a long time but we arrived at the minor injuries clinic in Partick just slightly late for his appointment. In the end there was no stookie, just the splint, a regime of finger exercises to follow, and blood tests to be sent to his doctor. We made it back on the bus but it was obvious the buses would be cancelled later in the day.
I decided to try and bring the car back as far as St. Mungo’s and I made it safely in the wake of other traffic that had ground the grit well into the road. Father Gareth, Brother Antony and Father Justinian were getting ready to head home to Bishopbriggs and I stayed to do the afternoon Adoration and Confessions – nobody came to either.
As Glasgow was now on red alert I thought it best to stay the night at the church so as to be here for the morning and allow the others to stay home safe. There is a nice reclining chair in the office so, after closing the church for the night, I pulled on a pair of heavy socks and my walking shoes and headed out to see if anywhere was open. I saw a number of foreign students taking lots of photos of the snow with great excitement. I had some vouchers from Christmas and so I bought a duvet to keep me warm and stocked up on some food for the night and the morning. As I got to the top of the High Street, just at the Duke Street junction, I saw a man, slightly the worse for wear, having a great laugh at some poor soul’s spinning car wheels as he tried to move off from the traffic lights, but instead just sliding all over the road. There was no other traffic in sight. The smile was wiped from his face however when he turned around and saw that the Old College Bar was shut. He let out a cry of great anguish as if to say “you can take the buses off, close the shops, shut down the airports, and stop the trains – but don’t close the Old College Bar” – this was a sure sign of Armageddon!
I slept okay on the chair, except that my feet got cold. There were 5 people at the 10 o’clock Mass; nobody for morning Confessions, and 8 people for the 12.15pm Mass. I headed out after lunch to try and get a charger for my phone as it had run out of power and my charger was in Bishopbriggs. I had a successful trip and managed to get myself a pizza in the only open café I could see. As I trudged back to St. Mungo’s I passed 3 men heading over the walkway. They were carrying bottles of something to keep them warm and one was crying out to the other two. “Eskimos, we’re turning into Eskimos!!!” He had a point.
Later in the afternoon I got a call asking me to tend to two people in the Royal Infirmary as the chaplain was snowbound. I put a notice on the Confessional to say I would be back as soon as possible. I had trouble getting out of the hospital as it seems there was a major incident coming in and people were being directed out by another route. When I returned, feeling the beginnings of storm Emma as I waded through the snow, there was one person waiting for Confession. I then closed the church and had a quiet night, doing a little work; reading, and saying a few prayers in the darkened church. Earlier in the day I had discovered a bed in one of the rooms in the old house and so I decided to take my duvet up there and get a better night’s sleep, which I did, hoping that the next day would begin to see a change.
Isaiah 1:18. Come now, and let us reason together, says the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; Isaiah 55:10. "My word is like the snow and the rain that come down from the heavens to water the earth. They make the crops grow and provide seed for planting and food to eat.