Still cold. Still snowing. Still in the UK. Would someone please remind me why?
Year after year I survive the winter only because I keep telling myself (as does everyone else I know) that surely we have to have a decent summer after this. It’s all lies, I tell you.
I’m still waiting for a decent summer. Although, if the British press is to be believed, we have just had one. Yes, this year we had a heatwave apparently. And not just any old heatwave, but one which forced the country to declare a state of emergency.
And where was I? In Bradford, where our best temperature was around 20 degrees and raining. Lovely.
Oh yes, and according to my ‘friends’ 2002 and 2004 were good summers too. Where was I? In South Africa, where it just happened to be winter!
Anyway, enough about summer, which is at least eight months away. This is about winter and snow and my boss trying to kill me.
Well, not really. But he did suggest that if I got stuck in the snow in town I could walk the short cut over the moors back to work.
Um hello!! Having spent a large chunk of my childhood within spitting distance of the equator, I know I’m not the most snow savvy person around. But not even I am stupid enough to walk 6 miles across unfamiliar terrain in a foot of snow. Well, it’s about 15cm actually. I never did get to grips with imperial measurements.
I hope he was joking, but I’m still not sure.
See, this is why I should be promoting Sanchin and finishing Yantsu. And maybe when I’ve written about ten more I’ll be able to scrape by on the royalties and not have to work with homicidal crazy people and live in a climate unfit for human habitation.
Now, I was going to talk about my latest pet project, The Artist’s Way, today but I have to go and chase the polar bears off the front lawn, so I’ll do it tomorrow instead.
This is how I have to ‘dress’ to keep warm. Even with the heating on. Yes, that is my sleeping bag. Underneath which is my entire wardrobe minus the karate gi. Oh, and please feel free to ignore the stack of dishes on the drainer. At least they are clean.
I really hope Santa brings me a diary this year so I can put a reminder in it. This time next year be back in South Africa, go into hibernation or be on Valium!