It's easy, stuck at a standstill, to pity yourself.
The stress of a missed liturgy. Letting down the Little Pebbles' Evening Event. An hour of your life spent looking at the iron wall of the trucks on the inside, swearing at the gormless twit swerving from lane to lane at 2mph to steal - ooh, three yards - on the lane he just left.
But somewhere up ahead, maybe someone's hurt. Maybe someone's dead. Maybe someone, somewhere else, will be mourning tonight. Then there are the paramedics, the coppers, maybe the firefighters dealing with the aftermath - and dealing with their own aftermath of the aftermath.
So we can sit quiet, stay warm, give thanks for smartphones and Radio 4 (though not the Archers - only Hnaef likes the Archers). And say a prayer for those ahead.
At least we'll be home soon.