Non speaking Sparkling and too much Guinness

Sparkling has lost her voice, so after a few pints I tried to ring her up.  The phone was put down on me.  I cried.  she didn't want to hear me.  I wasn't expecting much, a whisper would of done.  Then I get a text reply, in which she uses a number of profanities.  It's like the world wants to hear her, when it is the worst thing in the world to talk.  I can feel my own throat going a bit funny as well.  Poor thing.  I love her and said so in at least three text replies.  There were responses from Sparkling again they had language I can not repeat, in fear of harming the innocent.  Poor thing.  I said in response, if love could heal you would be perfectly well now.  I'm sure at this point she was probably pushed to the brink of madness and would of rung my neck.  I'd of deserved it, except for the fact I'd had too much Guinness in the pub so it was the Guinness speaking.  I still love her anyway.

I needed to hit the loo just before I returned back to the ranch.  Walked up three flights of stairs which is really a big drag when you have difficulty putting on foot in front of the other.  Staggered from side to side.  Looked up at the CCTV camera and gave it a big smile and a wave, although no one was around.  It's a message just to say I know you are watching.  Then pushed open the swing door and headed for the urinals.  It was then I realised how another version of hell can hit an inebriated man.  As I reached down for my zip, I couldn't find it.  It had somehow got stuck.  I fumbled and thought shit, if this carries on I will be pissing myself.  Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite me in the arse for trying to text Sparkling.  If so it was in advance because it wasn't till later tried to ring her.  It seemed like hours.  I could of sworn I was wearing mittens.  Where is the bloody zip I thought.  Somehow one of my finger nails caught it.  With a little more effort I was free.  A torrent of relief followed.

Darlink I love you.  Even when I'm pissed, see my face I'm smiling right now.  Yep he's definitely had one too many.

Cat on demand, tickle on demand, feet rub on demand and now speak double dutch

Chrimbo has been spent in the wonderful company of Sparkling, Rock Chick, L & B man and the rest of the family.  It has gone very quickly and tomorrow I'm due to head south to the Big Smokey as L & B man calls it.  However, the demands on my waist line have pushed my belt to the last buckle hole.   In one evening session my jeans must of looked particularly tight because in his inimitable way L & B man had to bring it to attention.  He said I had a man-gina, my jeans looked like I'd got a camel toe.  Bloody great.  I suppose this was him getting me back for making a comment about his torn styled jeans when out shopping.  Just as Sparkling always says Karma is a bitch.  Well it probably more than got me back last night, foot rub demands were the start of it, then going to bed it took on another side.

Olly the cat decided to show his power.  During the night this was done three times.  His meow screamed out such comments as "I am hungry go and feed me now" and "don't forget to stroke me and give me attention"  or there was the "check out my litter tray and clean it, I want to use it again," of course being only a biped I have an issue with understanding exactly what he is saying.  In any case it does mean I have to get up, go downstairs, see what task he has now set and get to work to his exacting demands. I'm now well and truly trained.  Being winter and all, it's cold getting up for the cat.  It's OK for him, with his nice black and white fur coat, he just makes assumptions we are all he same, we're not!  Which is what he banks on.  In the meantime also during the night Sparkling needed her back tickled.  Twice I was called upon to do this when she had woken up because of coughing (residue flu bug) and I had also ran downstairs to get some cough linctus.  There were then at least five calls during the night I had to make.  The next morning Sparkles said it was the best night's sleep she'd had. 

This evening Sparkles has lost her voice.  At first it was quite nice not having the light of Sparkle's opinion over anything, but then it became annoying.  I like to hear what Sparkles has to say, even if I don't agree with it, or even if it is to tell me to "shut up."  I feel lost without it.  I like to listen to her.  Unless it's to do with chores I should of done and hadn't.  So the evening has been quite, except for the odd remark from Rock, who will not wash up anything she dirties, and Dangerous Sports Lad just hasn't been trained enough to do Rock's washing up for her.  Karma is what I say to you Rock Chick, watch out because you can never tell what form it will be in.

Meow, bloody cat.  What's he saying now?  "hey biped, come and put some more water in my bowl." I wonder if he's ever been shown a fur hat before?

Overhead power lines and a Monkey's Shoulder

I got into the pub late from the Fish Factory.  Sat down amongst a number of alcoholics and ordered my single pint.  I know I should stop going to the pub, but it's one of those easier said things than done.  It took a while to get into the habit so it will likely take a while to get out of it.  Besides the difficult part is trying to stop myself from going but I like the company and the winding down process alcohol gives.

I sat there and said hello to Mr Che Guevara Bag man as he sipped at a glass of red wine.  This is usually an indication of how long he has been in the pub, his regular tipple is Stella, then it's the red wine and lastly, absolute getting completely pissed state is indicated by a shot of whisky, Monkey's Shoulder to be precise.  Yes, it's a real spirit not made up.  A member of our chilled intoxicated group commented to Che his red wine was leaving a mark on his upper lip, an almost demonic kind of upper red fang look.  For me, this led to a moment of hilarity as he began to lick his lips in an effort to try and removed the marks being left.  It was like he had just devoured the most wonderful roast beef and was trying to find if any minute morsel had left it's trace on his lips.  It was like my cat Stinky licking the very last drops of cream stuck to his whiskers.  Unfortunately, my laughter just led to Che getting annoyed at me and spouting off some four letter words.  I didn't take it to heart and called him baby face.  It's the alcohol it makes people say things they wouldn't normally say.  Otherwise Che is very much a pussy cat who doesn't swear too often, and has to put up with the ignorance of uncultivated, uncouth Joe Public in his ordinary work. And they have been known to occasionally shout abuse at him.  Witticism can so often be lost on idiots, especially when it takes them three weeks to work out the punch line of a joke.  Well you had to be there.

Tomorrow I'm due to head up North.  I hear the train service East Coast stopped running today because some train which uses the overhead power lines broke down.  The thing is not all trains use the overhead lines.  The one I would get on is diesel run and doesn't, so a simple solution would be not to run those ones dependent on, you guessed it, overhead power.  Is it me or does it take a moron to actually not understand this concept.  I'm to harsh to judge.  After all the train line is rented by train companies, and different companies run the line.  The worst thing which happened to this country was nationalisation of the train services.  Oh well gone are the olden days.  Think I'll see if I can get a monkey's shoulder, maybe I'll take two for tomorrow, better make a sandwich, find extra clothes and even possibly contemplate leaving earlier than normal.  Snow, snow, go away come back on another day.  Preferably one when the idiots have laid in and are not running trains requiring overhead power.

Lessons in being a cat

What do you do when your cat refuses to act like a cat and do what you expect him to do?  Stinky isn't going out in the garden, maybe it's something to do with the snow, the cold or his plain misunderstanding of his own job description.  The one which begins with, "You are a cat."  I've gotten to the point of talking to him and trying to explain what his role is in the household.  My personal endeavours to go running out in the garden when the pigeons drop down to scare them away just isn't cutting it.  I hear a great flock of them on the roof, run out, find a stick and toss it up towards them.  The stick appears to float upwards through the air in desperate slow motion and the pigeons fly away no harm done.  I'm just scaring them, but they keep returning.  If I scare them away enough then maybe they will not perch on the roof and get under the roof because the big-bad-man who resides there is a monster.  The type they would talk to their chicks about as they grow up in the nest.  The reality is I should be made redundant from this role because stinky should be doing it not me.  So what is wrong with him, how come he is not up to the job?  He should be prowling around the house, looking upwards longingly.  The pigeons in the meantime would warily wonder if their perching places is the best to be and just maybe, they'd fly away to someone elses house.  The situation is getting so desperate I have even considered dressing up as a cat and taking Stinky out in the garden then he could watch me chase the pigeons.  He might learn something from it.  Mind the image of a fat man in a cat costume doing this might scare him for the rest of life and give him a phobia.  If they talked to me the neighbours would think I had  cracked up.  And maybe the pigeons would fall of their perches in laughter and fly away.  The pros and cons are too complex to weigh up.  So I can't be sure whether there will be an effect on Stinky at all.

As there is an abundance of snow around I've now taken to lobbing snow balls at the pigeons.  I sit in my room and see the blighters as the come into land.  A bit like 744 squadron.  "OK lads, approaching roosting site, undercarriage down and ready yourself for another warm night in fat man's roof."  Shortly after this I run downstairs, find boots, do up laces, zip up cardy, put on hat, rush to back door, unlock, close grab bend down for ammunition, snow ball complete and lob.  Not quiet as quickly as 744 squadron but it seems effective.  I went out for the second time today and they must of recognised me because they flew off before I had a chance to make my snow ball.  It's a pity those icicles which are beginning to hang down didn't form in reverse then they'd get a cold sharp pain up their arses before they had a chance to land on my roof.  Bloody things.

Mind Sparkling Eye's cat also has a fear of going out in the garden in the snow.  The purchase of a litter tray has stopped him from pissing round the house.  He feels much more at ease.  It's like cats just don't like the inconvenience of being cold, fur coat or not, they just don't like it.  Now were cats Polar Bears they'd have no problem with it.  Of course the living arrangements for cats is a lot easier than Polar bears, just thinking of their shear size.  But saying this, having a Polar bear who chases pigeons would be a plus.  Providing it doesn't get stuck on the roof and be scared of getting down.   Oh dear, if it's not one thing it's another you have to think about. 

Snow today and Sparkles next week

Well the snow has come for a second time.  Sparkles had texted me yesterday to say she was worried about my being able to travel up North.  I assured her at the time there was no problem as the roads were clear and the train was a diesel so would plough through anything.  Then watching the weather report this morning as well as listening to the radio and finding three airports around London had closed I began to think this could be a sign of something.  The weatherman said it would snow at 10:00 a.m. but it didn't really start until an hour later. With all their technological advancements it seems the snow comes when it's ready to and not when anyone else tells it to.

I stood at the kitchen window looking out on the postage stamp garden.  Slowly the snow fell doing it's best to resist gravity, like gravity meant the inevitability of it's own sludgy death.  I'm sure all snow flakes feel this way, then they fall ontop of each other and bed up in their own company, probably telling stories of what it was like falling from their cloud, or how the wind bustled them about.  Or even the horror of almost becoming hail.  Yes hail! Snow's uncouth second cousin who just likes to throw it's weight about the more force the better, and didn't care about the fall from clouds because life for hail is about making as big a dent as possible.  I could see these conversations taking place, but in the midst of them the one other thing I noticed was how quite the world had become.  I could hear no birds tweeting.  The rail track isn't too far away and occasionally a train could be heard.  But not this morning.  There wasn't even much of a wind.  Just a stillness as the flakes gently fell.  Their tongues didn't scream either, they were now enjoying the last few feet of their ride down.  If only humans could fall from the sky so gracefully.  Then we wouldn't be humans, we'd be snow flakes instead.

So over the next few days I'll be checking out the weather forecast some more.  Paying closer attention to the train services.  Thinking about the warmest clothes I own and most importantly thinking how I can't wait to see Sparkles and the gang again.  Fingers crossed.  All I have to do now is be prepared. 

See you soon Sparkles.

Wine at lunch and finding ice grips

It may be an error to drink wine at lunch time before you've eaten.  This I learnt today.  A group of us arranged to have a bite in a Chinese.  Not a Chinese bite which I'm sure would be painful rather than anything else.  I sat down and seeing as it was a semi Chrimbo event ordered a glass of red wine.  This was before I'd even began to eat anything.  The food took time to be prepared and I had to wait for my dish last of all, so by this time I had now finished my glass of wine.  It is so nice to be slightly intoxicated, relaxing and for some reason with the relaxation a happiness descends.  So I then ordered a second glass.  I did think about this first, the thought was along the lines of I'm quite chilled so a second glass will make me even more chilled and more happy.  However, I had to return back to the Fish Factory to do a bit of chopping up things.  Well, when I eventually got back to the Factory, I was so happy and relaxed I found it very difficult to concentrate for the rest of the afternoon.  Papers were put in front of me which I had to sign off, which I did without a great deal of checking what I was signing.  I could of signed off my organs to a third world country and the surgeons would of been waiting for me to walk out the door so they could claim them.  This didn't happen, I'm still in one piece, unless they were poor map readers on where to go.  Needless to say, I got out of the Fish Factory early, it just all seemed like too much work.  Next time I'll try and take an afternoon off on such an event, but of course it is always better with company than on your Jack Jones.

Yesterday it was cold.  There was a thick layer of frost on cars and this morning when I left it didn't appear so cold.  Yet I feel it's one of those situations where appearances are deceiving.  We've been told by the weatherman or weatherwoman, whoever catches your fancy, it will get very chilly by Thursday.  So this is something else to look forward to.  In the meantime I keep checking out Amazon and various other sites for ice grips which attache to the bottom of your shoes.  They have either studs, springs or spikes and allow you to walk with more safety on ice.  They are in a variety of makes and a variety of prices.  I even found on one web site how to make your own with pieces of metal which were cut and shaped, then you had to find straps from somewhere to attach them to your shoes.  They look very useful and may even be life savers, depending how you fall and how big your arse is.  Mind, falling on your bum can be painful as well.  This is something snowmen just don't have to worry about, they just stand still with their funny looking carrot noses and silently laugh.  Until they melt of course.  I suppose if I can't get hold of some ice grips I could always get an ice pick, if there are no ice picks maybe a hammer.  Or never go out.

I expect though the worst situation to be in would be both drunk and without ice grips.  Well at least I'd have a smile on my face and not worry about a bruised bum.

The wrong seat, an inexperienced dentist and the wrong address

Yesterday wasn't a brilliant day for me.  Things which should of happened didn't happen so I got annoyed  even bordering on the annoyed plus some.  Firstly, was a meeting for the Fish Factory in London.  The meeting place was given to me weeks before hand.  There was a lovely little map as well.  I gave myself sufficient time to travel, followed the map and found the place.  It had an odd street number of 15 3/4 Street.  Rightly enough when I found the building above the door in big numbers was 15 3/4 Street.  O.K. I thought to myself and entered.  A pass key card was given to me at the reception and no door would open without this thing being waved at it first.  I found the room.  It was a long stretched one with about 30-40 seats at the long stretched table.  And I was nearly late with ten minutes to spare.  I didn't recognise any of the delegates, but squeezed myself past the seats and then noticed a spare seat next to an individual.  I then recognised the individual.  An old boss who would be like a dose of poison to dying Cleopatra, a venomous viper, an individual who I'd say shouldn't be the boss of a dog turd let alone a group of people.  So I sat down in the spare seat next to them.  I was good.  Very good.  The inner turmoil to recoil from this individual with garlic and cross was held in check, neither did I place my hands round their neck and begin squeezing, squeezing and chuckling with a crazy laugh, I know it would of been so much fun.  But I didn't.  Too many witnesses.  Spending the next 40 years in jail, although with today's sentencing guidelines I'd probably get away with 10 or less.  Not to mention a medal of honour.  Nope.  I kept my cool and stayed civil.  If I'd of known though, I would of eaten the worst curry I could the night before.  Vengeance by natural gases might of been a small recompense.  Another day oh evil one, thy cards will be marked, let this karma bestow itself on you.

I've got a niggling tooth somewhere.  I know it's the lower jaw and on the right hand side.  While eating toast with cracked black pepper a hard bit of pepper got in the recess.  It became uncomfortable.  Resulting in my now tending to eat on the left hand side.  A bit like pass the dutchy on the left hand side, tooth wise so to say.   I rang the dentist expecting to wait a full two weeks to see my man.  It ended up only being two days.  Further it wasn't my man it was an inexperienced little girl who had a bodged up badge attached to her lapel indicating she was a Dr.  Hmmm I wondered.  Young I thought as she removed her bib and put a Farleys rusk to one side.  I sat in the chair and she had a look in my mouth.  She couldn't see anything wrong as she poked about in an uncouth way.  She then said she would bang my teeth with an implement and I was to say if it hurt at all.  Out came a mallet and a chisel as she tapped away.  "Nope" I said while pieces of chipped tooth flew up in the air.  I pointed to the area of the offending molar.  She looked even closer.  An X-ray was taken, an old type one with film, they had tried this new digital one but the bit which goes in the mouth was too big for my pallet.  I just can't open as wide as some people.  Whereas Rock Chick can open really wide, she's got a big mouth in this sense, I seen it.  She showed me once how wide she could open it.  I nearly fell down the cavity.  Besides this she is a lovely princess.  Anyway the inexperienced dentist looked at the X-ray and advised nothing was unusual.  I left the dentist poking a finger in my mouth and now with the very real feeling come Chrimbo day as I tuck into turkey the nasty little thing is going to crack and I'll be in pain for the following two, three maybe four weeks.  Because I'll next book my appointment and ask not the girl who's just out of diapers please.

Later the same day I was due to go off to a Chrimbo party arranged by someone at the Fish Factory.  I looked at the card with the address and thought I knew where it was.  The word "thought" is important here.  I went along to a club like place.  The card said "This Place Sports and Social Club" so I went along to an area I thought I knew called "This Place" then I entered a building called "This Place Working Men's Club" and was told it was not This Place.  Hmmm.  I had to walk up a hill which was going to take twenty minutes.  I went to the hill and passed the "This Place" pub.  Half way up the hill I had another look at the card again.  There was no telephone number on it.  I noticed the post code was not for the "This Place" area.  It seemed odd to say the least.  I walked back down the hill got a bus home.  Logged onto the Internet and then did a Google search.  I found the "This Place Sports and Social Club" but the address of "This Place" happened not to be in the area of "This Place."  In addition checking at ground level as I went through the google images I could not see where the club was adequately or the road up to the club.  I now realised I had been wearing this set of trousers a long time and they had began to get uncomfortable chaffing my inner thighs.  I had a minor headache, I was now over two and a half hours late, even though I had started out late, and was now getting pissed off.  So I decided the venue "This Place Sports and Social Club" was some pain in the arse place to actually get to after I'd already made the effort, and even though it was semi local I was fed up.  I'd spent twelve quid on the ticket to.  The club was describing itself as being in "This Place" but by all standards it was not, it was as far as I was concerned a product worthy of being so poorly described as being against the Trade Descriptions Act.  Sod it.  So in a half mood, I didn't go.  Put on a DVD had three chocolate covered biscuits, a big mug of tea and munched away doing my best to enjoy the DVD and put out of my head all the annoyances which had bestowed their selves on me this day.

It's Saturday now, so I'm sure to find something else to piss me off.

Wool mix trousers are worth avoiding

In the Fish Factory the heating rises up from the floor.  When the building was constructed the fad was floor heating.  Electrical elements were built into the concrete.  A thermostat is adjusted on one side of the room, however in some parts of the room the elements have failed, in others they work perfectly.  The floor under my feet works too perfectly and it ends up with my feet being roasted if the temperature isn't set at just the right level.  Those people who sit near windows however can sometimes get cold as even the smallest of cracks lets in the chilly air.  Today this heating caused some irritation.  Irritation to my legs.

There reason for this was I had been out and bought a new pair of trousers, which have a wool mix blend in the fabric.  I had already thrown a pair of trousers away with a wool based fabric and today I re learnt why.  Saying this the trousers look very nice, except for one, thing they make me itch.  At first I tried to ignore how my legs felt.  There was no doubt in my mind it was a combination of floor heating and wool mixed trousers.  Then I just could not help myself, I began to scratch.  Awwwe, what a relief it was as well.  The thing was I just could not stop myself from scratching my legs and letting out the occasional happy sigh.  Using the end of a biro seemed to be quite effective as well.  I became aware I might of looked a bit odd.  Especially as I was scratching and rubbing my legs so much.  Itch, Itch, Itch, scratch, scratch, scratch, awwwwwwe.  I just hope nobody thought I was doing anything else. 

Moto: avoid wool mix trousers at any cost.

Wrapping presents and thinking of yesterday

I was stood at the kitchen table doing yet another stint of Chrimbo present wrapping, when the start of a wonderful Chrimbo headache began.  You know it's a Chrimbo one because there's a taste of Turkey in the air and the feeling of when-will-this-ever-end.  I thought about my earlier years as a growing up child, yes quite a way back, then wondered how long it mus of taken for my mum and dad to wrap up the presents.  I can't actually remember any of the presents, though I'm sure clothes was a popular option amongst the toys.  I recall also waking up dead early in the morning and there was not only presents but there would be a sock at the end of the bed or somewhere.  It would be crammed full of fruit, nuts and sweets. It all added to the excitement.  Though one Chrimbo I really needed to get up and have a pee.  It was then I ran into Father Chrimbo, who looked remarkably like my annoyed Dad with a sack of gifts.  I had waited ages before going to the loo and it was unfortunate I bumped into him.  I got told off as I ran into the toilet to have a piss.  At the time though relieving myself seemed more important than the sack he was carrying.  It's amazing at the little memories which come back.  I ripped off some sellotape from the wheel and was nearly finished with the present only to forget what it was I was wrapping and who it was to.  Fortunately it wasn't completely sealed so didn't need to be unwrapped. 

For a short period today I had the company of Monster Boy, I have him some pocket money and we went up to the shops.  Where he bought two comics.  One was the Simpsons and it had a trick bubble gum toy attached.  You offered the gum and the taker would then have a plastic beetle flick out on a spring.  It was very ingenious.  He then went and offered his mum Silly Sophia and his nan Big Moma, they both let out surprised squeals and laughed, Monster Boy meanwhile laughed even louder in his infectious way.  Bart Simpson is definitely one of his heroes.  Not to mention any Marvel comic character.  It's funny how children through their actions of children can bring so much happiness.  Of course they grow up at some point and then it's a wonder how they managed to grow up so quickly.  Just as little Rock Chick grew up to beautiful young lady Rock Chick.  She still has certain character traits which were evident when little.  I suppose we all have these present at a young age and only those who see us grow up recognise them.  Holding onto laughter is in my mind one of the most important traits of all.  I considered the pretending I was a child again, trying to get back into the child like mind of yesteryear.  The notion was short lived unfortunately.  I hope Monster Boy doesn't have the same issue when he gets older.  Because then he can think of me and maybe just this thought will make him laugh.  Merry Chrimbo for tomorrow Monster Boy.

Sparkles snowed in

Sparkling has been, locked in her house for a week.  It's the white stuff.  The car has been welded to the road, icicles bigger than swords hang down from the guttering.  Some houses have had their guttering pulled down under the weight and strain it has taken.  She consequently rushes out of the front or back door in fear one might drop.  The cat is afraid to go out, of being lost in the snow and never being found, his little meow would be damped and he'd never be heard.  There has been no trace of birds.  They hid in the trees somewhere and have not even come down to have fried sausages specially made for them.  Sparkling tells me she has done nothing today, then on another day again I ring she has done nothing.  She is going crazy.  Cabin Fever is getting stronger.  The odd trek takes place to a local shop where the shelves are looking a lighter than normal and the barest essentials, alcohol and fags are getting very low.  I'm told she is getting feral.  I ask "feral?"  Yes it's her hair, it now is becoming wild.  After fourteen episodes of a TV series who's name I forget, I can tell Sparkling is having enough and needs to escape.  It doesn't matter where, she has to get out, the house has become a snow prison.  The Gay Rum has all been drunk, but Sparkling did manage a hot toddy out of it.  I wish I could make it easier, do something to whisk away the snow and ice.  Sparkles tells me if I were there she'd have me clearing up for the whole street as well as digging out the car.  Which has now been truly hemmed in by snow as Dangerous Sports Lad in his imitable way blocked in with more snow when trying to help. 

Rock Chick has gone out and for the evening and left Sparkles with the X Factor.  Rock will be chugging down wine with University girl, who will maybe tomorrow give Sparkles a lift to the Supermarket.  I can see Sparkles now if she gets there, it will be like heaven, just being out of the house, walking around the corridors of goods.  If she's lucky maybe even bumping into real human beings to talk to, to pass the time, to chit chat.  I could even see her spending some time with Santa if he isn't surrounded by kids asking for the latest toys.  Sparkles isn't on top of the weather at the moment.  Yes, it's a pun.  I go to bed and as I turn and toss searching for warmth I wrap my arms around me and wish Sparkles a good night, sweet dreams and know all is well.

Keep your spirits up honey.

Enticing the snow and a dream of bare feet

Before this white stuff began I found myself getting angry.  I just wanted something to happen rather than the wind, rain and not knowing what coat to wear.  The notion came over me to stand in the back garden late one evening, then look up to the black cold sky and shout out at the top of my voice "come on!  Bring it on!  Bloody well snow, hail, whatever you want to do, but do something!  Do your worst, I'm waiting for it!"  At this point I was going to dramatically bear my chest, ripping open my shirt in a symbolic manner, then see whether I got struck by lightening.  I didn't act on this desire, maybe it saved the neighbours from ringing up the NHS and having me carted away.  Providing in this crazy age they hadn't run out of straight jackets. I was annoyed at the weather without any doubt in my mind.  The next day it snowed.  If thoughts are powered by magic beware because this would indicate sometimes they happen.

I had a dream.  No not the same as a famous black activist.  A dream.  This must of been sometime one morning which is the usual time I have dreams and then remember them.  Though I'm sure I forget about 90 percent of most dreams.  I was looking down at my feet, it was my bare feet, no shoes or socks.  I noticed my toes and the spaces between them, there may have even been some obvious dark hairs sprouting out of them, but that didn't matter.  I was standing up and looking down.  The ground was covered in snow, not deep snow just snow, and I felt no chill.  This could just be the nature of dreams which are abstract, symbolic and so never representative of what they appear to be.  However, besides the lack of chill I had a feeling of astonishment, or wonder.  It was like this feeling was asking the question, why am I looking down at my bare feet in the snow?  I must of held this moment of wonder for a few minutes, in real life I would of been scratching my head or holding my chin, just like a great thinker normally does.  Shortly I woke up.  The question wasn't answered, I threw the bed covers to one side, crawled to the window and looked out to see snow and no change in the darkened sky and the reflected street light making everything seem brighter than it actually is.  Getting up in the cold is a pain, so my ancient body relented to the need of rising and I puzzled no more about my feet, as long as I can still see them it's all I have to worry about.


To date I have not fallen on my backside, although I have noticed how my teeth feel more sensitive. Which could be because of my old age and they are about to drop out or because the cold is effecting them.  The alternative simpler explanation is I've lost a filling.  Probably eaten it with some fried rice.  Which is another thing the cold weather does.  It just makes you want to eat hot food.  Sandwiches never hit the spot.  Neither do little jacket potatoes with barely enough content to fit on a fork.  I had one of those the other day as well.

A recent weather forecast has indicated this may continue throughout the next few weeks and respite from it all only come the start of next year.  Oh well now for some good news, only 28 days to go.