(c) Keith and Ste. in Alpe d'Huez.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Here: Wind. Southerly. 9km. Cloudy, but clearing
Today we saw the sky. Yessssss.
There was a gushing pink hue to the thin clouds this morning as the sun blossomed over the hilltop like nature's orgasm.
(Like that?)
I thought it was the reflection of the wooden wall on the window in my office but it was real pink clouds. In the morning, shepherds warning but there was nothing to be scared of. Daytime temps soared to -2 and it's only going to be -11 overnight. I tell myself it's preferable to -4 in Manchester where it's oh so damp and gets into your bones. I have no ice to scrape off my windscreen here, just the occasional snowfall to brush away but don't breathe on the windscreen - oh no - because your breath goes hard then it starts to grow!.
After the sun came up, the skies cleared even more. I hadn't realised just how bad the valley claustrophobia is. We complain and complain when we can't see the sky here. Because there's no moisture there's no funky frost or fog creeping across the fields. It just gets grey. The Cheshire Plain could be quite awe inspiring on a grey day but here you feel like you're stuck in a cupboard with the mountains folding in on you from all directions.
I don't know how Rob survived in Winterpeg. The dark nights, huddling up indoors. Oh yeah, Interweb, that's how. Alas, all motherboards in our house are dead so my computer-build has come to an end. I'm hoping Santa will bring me a sexy Mac for christmas... and that has nothing to do with flashers. Instead I revert to writing christmas cards and letters.
I should get back to excercising and I think I will. I'll go home tonight and pack my gym kit for tomorrow. The only problem with that is the terrible pain in my shoulder. I have no idea what I did but my guess is, I hawked the kitten over my shoulder in the middle of the night when she was purring at my water glass. Either that or I hurt it hulking around all santa's presents for him because he couldn't make it to Canada Post at lunchtime.
There was a gushing pink hue to the thin clouds this morning as the sun blossomed over the hilltop like nature's orgasm.
(Like that?)
I thought it was the reflection of the wooden wall on the window in my office but it was real pink clouds. In the morning, shepherds warning but there was nothing to be scared of. Daytime temps soared to -2 and it's only going to be -11 overnight. I tell myself it's preferable to -4 in Manchester where it's oh so damp and gets into your bones. I have no ice to scrape off my windscreen here, just the occasional snowfall to brush away but don't breathe on the windscreen - oh no - because your breath goes hard then it starts to grow!.
After the sun came up, the skies cleared even more. I hadn't realised just how bad the valley claustrophobia is. We complain and complain when we can't see the sky here. Because there's no moisture there's no funky frost or fog creeping across the fields. It just gets grey. The Cheshire Plain could be quite awe inspiring on a grey day but here you feel like you're stuck in a cupboard with the mountains folding in on you from all directions.
I don't know how Rob survived in Winterpeg. The dark nights, huddling up indoors. Oh yeah, Interweb, that's how. Alas, all motherboards in our house are dead so my computer-build has come to an end. I'm hoping Santa will bring me a sexy Mac for christmas... and that has nothing to do with flashers. Instead I revert to writing christmas cards and letters.
I should get back to excercising and I think I will. I'll go home tonight and pack my gym kit for tomorrow. The only problem with that is the terrible pain in my shoulder. I have no idea what I did but my guess is, I hawked the kitten over my shoulder in the middle of the night when she was purring at my water glass. Either that or I hurt it hulking around all santa's presents for him because he couldn't make it to Canada Post at lunchtime.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Lucky Dawn
Dawn came in to work on Friday to wish everyone Merry Christmas. She left in the summer and the place has been in pandemonium ever since. I saw her as I was walking along the road eating my breakfast with one hand and carrying paperwork with the other.
I waved my muffin at her.
I waved my muffin at her.
With windchill
Minus effing fff.fff...ffff...fifteen.
Needless to say, I didn't bike to work today.
I didn't have my camera ready when four deer walked across the crosswalk like the Beatles Abbey Road cover (except the deer had no flares and four legs / no arms that kind of thing). I need a dash-mounted digital camera for christmas.
Needless to say, I didn't bike to work today.
I didn't have my camera ready when four deer walked across the crosswalk like the Beatles Abbey Road cover (except the deer had no flares and four legs / no arms that kind of thing). I need a dash-mounted digital camera for christmas.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
New habits die easy
I forgot that when it snows really hard, I have to wipe the snow out of my bug's eyes before I set off for work in the morning, otherwise the headlights don't penetrate.
Then I forgot to brush the snow off both sides of the back window. Just did one side. I felt all unballanced all the way to work.
Have a great weekend everyone.
Then I forgot to brush the snow off both sides of the back window. Just did one side. I felt all unballanced all the way to work.
Have a great weekend everyone.
Friday, December 02, 2005
A great memory jogger
I was riding home last night past the cemetary and I noticed a candle burning. One candle glowing in the darkness that's silenced even deeper than usual by snowfall.
It's a candle sitting on a gravestone. I remembered reading a story about the family who lights the candle. The boy died suddenly at age 18 from a hole in the heart and every night his father goes to the cemetary and places a candle on his grave, covers it with a glass shield and leaves it to burn out. It's his way of remembering his son and greiving.
Then he was told by the city to stop, because the rules say that you're only allowed to leave organic matter - flowers etc. that will rot away and not be a nuisance to the grounds keepers. The poor man was told not to continue his ritual that had kept him close to his son for two years since he died.
Obviously the council backed down eventually and as I passed the candle, flickering in the snowfall it made me feel a little warmer and I thought of the handsome boy and his loving dad and I thought, what a great memorial.
Going home now because I just looked out of the window and there's been a secret snow storm going on.
It's a candle sitting on a gravestone. I remembered reading a story about the family who lights the candle. The boy died suddenly at age 18 from a hole in the heart and every night his father goes to the cemetary and places a candle on his grave, covers it with a glass shield and leaves it to burn out. It's his way of remembering his son and greiving.
Then he was told by the city to stop, because the rules say that you're only allowed to leave organic matter - flowers etc. that will rot away and not be a nuisance to the grounds keepers. The poor man was told not to continue his ritual that had kept him close to his son for two years since he died.
Obviously the council backed down eventually and as I passed the candle, flickering in the snowfall it made me feel a little warmer and I thought of the handsome boy and his loving dad and I thought, what a great memorial.
Going home now because I just looked out of the window and there's been a secret snow storm going on.
Too much working
Too much watching TV and vegging out to recover. Not enough energy. No gossip, no news, no spectacular photographs.
Life's dull. If it weren't for cats I don't know what I'd do.
Life's dull. If it weren't for cats I don't know what I'd do.
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