Slip sliding into town with the non-grip tyres. The usual grimaces as the snow fluctuates and coat collars tuck round any remaining visible skin. A rawness for only the rough to endure to bring in the necessary provisions.
Back home, just, calmness from the chill. A tranquility for all seasons but winter in particular. Frozen paths dug out from the snow direct you to your chores. No freedom of movement. A sense of frustration as this is all late and March is tomorrow when other work had been planned to take place. The hens are temporarily in the old henhouse, a warmer site but in the way of wood and cats. Only the outdoor toilet is a distance away from the front door now. The trip to the loo is now a journey in these conditions to it's far outpost. But a warm seat awaits if you wait for your wife to go first!
Thursday, February 15, 2018
A chance to shine in the eyes of our neighbours, six plus years before the deep plunge into man-made fibres for the bedroom floor. No more striding in with wellies, replaced with a tip-toe socked foot. A replacement stove tucks into a tiled off corner awaiting it's connection day as its floor-space dries.
Maybe a 10am beer and an afternoon hour of 10 homemade donuts isn't the healthiest of days. But the neighbourly rounds are essential for the local gossip and the broadcast of our carpet. An almost fanfare moment as usually the news is what we hear not what we tell.
A shiny, new wooden floor had been the plan. But warmth, budget and the necessity to complete eventually took precedence.
Soon our sofa-bed in the kitchen will become nightly redundant once again as we hope to return to the made-over room. A relief for the strained back and a good night's rest away from the dripping kitchen tap that still bothers me.