Battersby,cheap fast wow gold Wednesday February 6th, 1963I looked out of the window and froze at the sight. There was snow everywhere, a fair bit of the stuff as farmers in these parts might say. As far as I could see from the bay window looking south from our house the Cleveland Hills were thoroughly covered. So far, though, the roads were clear enough to drive north or east, to Ayton or Kildale.

Being a vet has its ups and downs in this neck of the woods, but thinking of my fellow students who finished with me, I would say I got the better deal. True, all they had to deal with everyday were perky Pekes, sad looking Spaniels and yappy Yorkies. I had bulls and porkers. No comparison, really. But I get the open countryside, and I get friendly farmers who can't always pay for what their animals need. Come market day I get a cut in the sale price of livestock, though. Well it's not exactly like that. They get their cash for the beasts and settle up with me afterwards. I'm told even the best vets don't fare much better I only have to think of Alf Wight, my writing colleague at Thirsk who calls himself James Herriot in his books because of the rule we can't profit from non veterinary proceeds and some of my townie colleagues have to practically pull the cash from the pet owners' pockets!

Anyway, I have visits to make at Bank Top Farm near Ayton and Low Terrace just outside Kildale so my kit needs to be dropped into the Wolseley. It's got gour wheels, and the gear box was seen to at Stokesley by a good workshop mechanic. So far this year North Yorkshire's missed the worst of the snows. North Norfolk was badly hit, stuck out as it is into the sea between Cromer and North Walsham. I'd hate to be a vet there, they'd need helicopters to get about.

The snow's piled up along the walls and hedgerows on the north and east sides, even as far in as Ayton and right now I've got to get round to Kildale. Jack Metcalfe at Bank Top said it's going to close in soon. I bow to his knowledge; you don't get to the age of sixty seven without knowing what the weather's getting up to in your own back yard. He might be right about what he says. Although the sky looks like lead to the north east and it might have stopped for the time being, I think we're due for something we haven't had since '47 '48. That was a stonker of a winter! Where was the Gulf Stream Drift when you needed it? I was still a kid then, still at school down in the deep south. She bought him from some old fellow near Whitby. The hooves had grown deformed, but with some trimming and work by the smith to remove its bent over hoof irons as she called his shoes he was up on his feet again by the time I left.

I treated myself to a tea Glebe Cottage by the station, and I was going to look at Harry Webster's ewes behind the church, but one look at the moortops told me to get my hide back to Battersby before the roads closed up under drifts. My sister Kate's supposed to be visiting from Lewisham in South London and she'll expect a lift from the station, even though we're just a hop and a skip away down the road. But she won't be happy if we get boxed in by the weather!

As I come over the railway from Kilburn I can hear the horn of the multiple unit near Ayton. I've got to get a move on if I'm going to save her from the weather and I've got to drive along the road in a wide arc through the village to get there! There it goes again, the two tone horn, and it sounds closer to Battersby, near where the railway goes under a farm road. There's a cutting before the train rolls over the level crossing and westward into the station past the signal box. I've got my work cut out! Hopefully the waiting room will be open still. Barry, the porter signalman might have kept the fire going. Hopefully!

When I roll into the car park the train's just clack clacking away east to Whitby over the junction with the line through Ayton from Middlesbrough. The sky still looks like lead, only now it's more blue grey. It's only four in the afternoon and it looks almost like midnight! I can see the dim light in the signal box, Jim's striding between his levers, busy setting the points for the 'schools' train back from Whitby. By the time that gets here, in around another fifteen minutes' time, the line to the east will be shut down for the night. Only the train that's just left will still be in the branch, the other side of Glaisdale. Once it reaches Grosmont it's near enough safe, with just Sleights and Ruswarp before it reaches Whitby.

'Hi Kate!' I push open the waiting room door.

'God, Tony, this weather's closing in!' is the first she says to me, not 'Hi Tony, nice to see you!' Mind you, the weather's going to be uppermost in everyone's thoughts. Outside the snow is over the toes of my rubber wellies. Who knows what it will be like tomorrow.

'Let's get to your car, Tony', she gives me a peck on my cheek as she swishes past me through the open door. She calls out a farewell in the near dark to Barry, now on his way back to the signal box. 'The young lad here was just about to damp the fire down, but when i came in he put another lump of coal on. He told me he didn't know how long it would be before you showed up, so just make myself comfy! What a darling, what's his name?'

'Bye Barry!' she calls out. He waves back as he climbs the steps up to the door of the cabin.

'You still got that old Wolseley? Your schoolmates are all driving around in E types and Ford Zodiacs, did you know that?' Kate's scathing about my car, but not sneering. Anything with four wheels that can move through the snow is good enough in this!

'I'm saving up for a Landie', I tell her.

'A what? Oh, a Land Rover! What for, of all things. You need something more like a Merc, surely?' Kate flashes a smile, the only thing I can see clearly in this light.

'Not around here', I tell her, looking briefly in the mirror. The car slides sideways.

'Whoa! What was that?' Kate's eyes are wide open in sudden fright. I say nothing and wrangle with the steering wheel to get the car straight again after turning a bend in third gear. Too fast!

It's not long before we're at the front door. Isabelle, my wife, has warmed the house up well.

'Tony Junior nearly got stuck in school!' my young daughter Penny laughs, and greets my sister, 'Hello Auntie Kate! Shame you couldn't come for Christmas!'

'Engine's come off the rails, Mister Simms. The wheels took the ice for rail, and then it was off! There won't be much coming through here today, I'll warrant! This'll take some hours to clear. The engine's down in the cutting, near the bridge. You can't see it from here, and they've had to radio for the York plough. There's a crane coming from there as well!'
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