After a couple of 'phone calls from Dad asking me (in Wolverhampton) if I knew where letters and documents around his house (in London) were, I went down to London.
In a fecking blizzard that followed me all the way down to London.
When I got there, and having spent money on files and dividers and a big thick marker pen, Dad told me that no, he was fine and he didn't need any help, thank you.
So, after a decent interval, I turned around and went home. I got to Victoria Coach Station about 2 hours early in the hope of getting on an earlier bus. No joy. The snow had caused chaos on the roads and the station resembled bedlam.
I got on a coach that the driver told us was meant for Wolverhampton and Dudley only. Needless to say there was no trouble on the return journey. The sun shone (in my side of the coach) and it looked like a fine, if cold, spring day.
The coach went to Birmingham anyway, because the law says the driver needed a break and we had to collect a relief driver to take us on to Wolverhampton.
The relief driver let him down, so we had to wait for another coach to arrive and that driver would carry on with us. After his legally proscribed 45 minute break. After he'd arrived about 20 minutes after us.
I've had an awful day with not much to show for it.
So has the rest of the capital by the look of it.