Sunday December 2, 2007
Winter is creeping up on us now, with a vengeance. No snow here yet, and very little in the way of ice and frost. There’s a nasty wind, though, and constant miserable drizzle. Sometimes the rain is semi-hard, as if warning of hail and snow to come.
It’s much worse elsewhere in the world, of course. It always is. But I’m not doing a comparative study here, measuring wind, temperature, precipitation and humidity. Rather, I’m reporting on the reaction my bones have to being dragged out into the weather. In the words of dear old Corporal Jones, they don’t like it up ‘em.
That ‘creeping up on us’ line is the worrisome thing. It feels as though it’s a remorseless process, heading for a nasty winter. I shall have to look out the silly old-man chains to fix to my outdoor shoes. I’m not 100% steady on my pins at the best of times and icy pavements are bad news for me. I need to look at my store-cupboard, too. I doubt I’ll need it but it’d be silly to be stuck at home without a few cans, bottles and packets to see us through until the council gets round to clearing the roads.
Today, though, it’s only a shade on the uncomfortable side of miserable, with a harsh wind and icy showers. I’ve looked out one of my knitted hats and shall without shame pull it down over the hood of my bright red parka, keeping the whole in place, snug and dry. If it gets much worse I shall dig my balaclava out of the cupboard, too. Can’t be doing with ice and rain about my ears and wetting my ever-thinning thatch.
Dolly whined and moaned at the kitchen door first thing this morning until I gave in and opened it for her with the usual warnings and cautions. The look she gave me as the first icy blast blew the curtains aside was unfair in the extreme.
“I did warn you, Dolly,” I said as I shut the door.
“Mrrraaaawww!” she replied, scathingly, as she headed up stairs to find a suitable warm and dry spot.
“Say what you mean, why don’t you,” I called after her.
All that got me was a faint and distant “Mrrraaaawww!” followed by a disdainful thump as she flopped herself down.
Matter of fact, looking out of my study window over wet roofs and soaked pavements, I may well follow her example when I finish here. I do have to go out for provisions before I pick Graham up from the holiday camp this afternoon, but that can wait.
Besides, while I’m dozing I’m not eating and I already feel the egg and bacon monster stirring inside of me. I do not need calories at the moment, and I certainly haven’t earned egg and bacon. I could probably justify a brown sauce sandwich so long as I don’t butter the bread.
Sometimes I wish I liked noodles. Not a lot of calories in a cup of steaming noodles. Almost none in fact, if you keep the sauce thin and mean. But, there you go. Never have liked noodles. I’d rather eat hot string.
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