The hour approacheth...

The Deadline express train is now rumbling down the tracks towards us and there is nowhere to hide! Walking has ceased and we are constantly on the canter but there is a very small light at the end of the tunnel…
My last job is to pack the car. The stack of cases and half the contents of the house that my wife has left by the door is enormous. “Did you know we are taking our car and not a long wheel base transit van?” came a begrudging moan from male old git struggling with kitchen sink, dining table, etc. “Oh stop your harping,” came the understanding reply as she trotted off to fetch some more. “It’s not the ruddy Tardis…” I shouted after her, only to be interrupted by my mobile phone.
It was our landlord in Les Gets. “Have you bought snow chains?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
“Well you’ll need them, its madness out here. Make sure you try them out before you come… You won’t get here otherwise.” I stopped packing the Tardis and quickly went to fetch the chains. They were in the spare tyre wheel compartment; quite useful to extract when the car is empty! Fifteen minutes later they were still lying limply around the wheel. I have come to the conclusion this exercise should be one of the main criteria for entering Oxford or Cambridge. However I convinced myself that they would be OK, only then to spend half an hour trying to get them back into the container…