Days Without Paracetamol

Message from Lorenzo
Sent 20:20 GMT

Hey man,
The contrast from the picture you sent to what I woke up to this morning is staggering. Drew back the curtains to reveal a white blanket coving all before me: bottles of milk, plant pots, paper boys, cars and the guys trying to deliver my Lemon Jelly tickets. I wrapped up and made for my car through bitter gales and blizzards, my navy overcoat quickly covered in a layer of snow drifting on my (halfway up the) hilltop house. Shovel in hand I dug out my crime fighting vehicle, attached my huskies, sat on top and ordered them to pull. Into the blizzard they took me, up into the hills along my normal commute route. The road littered with cars abandoned by the occupants, including non other than casualty's Art Malik, who put trust in their feet and not their wheels.

But up on the empty moors the huskies broke free leaving my car sliding to a halt and I was left alone with no mean of getting out of this rural lancashire prison. I had eaten my emergency Cadbury's Animal Biscuits on the Scotland trip so I sat in the car, hungry, in the cold, waiting, waiting and still waiting for help to arrive. But no one came. Hours passed and day turned into night. I never felt so alone. I dug myself a snow tunnel and climbed inside keeping only my head exposed to that I could see the outside world.
During my time in the snow tunnel I saw point of light on the horizon , it was really going, it was really somethin', it was beautiful, beautiful, just beautiful.
What was it?
Well that is a story for another time.
Lorenzo