Monday, January 04, 2010

Cold thighs

In Bristol, 1 January 2010 broke cloudless but with a lingering frost on the windscreens and grassy patches. Mine eyes haven’t seen the dark side of 9am for many a New Year’s Day, but having a five month-old baby wreaks havoc in all areas of life. Brit Jnr saw the decade in at midnight as part of her normal sleeplessness pattern. In theory, that should be the last New Year she sees in until the 2020s, which is an alarming thought.

2010 has thus far been cold, but countryside cold is of a different quality to town cold. This morning, as part of my post-Christmas exercise regimen, I arrived at the office early so as to take a brisk stroll around the surrounding lanes. Ice-stiffened and clogged with mist, the whole valley looks like the ghost of itself. After a while my thighs became cold beneath my trousers in a sharp stinging way which suddenly took me back to my primary schooldays in Portsmouth; a Roman Catholic job where we boys were required to wear shorts in all weathers. Mulleted footballers, cold thighs and the fizzy drink Quatro, that’s the early 1980s for me.

On the way back I spotted the Local Character’s poor old horse grumbling around in its field. Its back appeared to be covered in frost. Is this possible? Can horses frost up, like motorcars? I will have to ask the Local Character when I see him, which surely I will if he made it to the other side of Christmas. I hope you did too, and that you had a good one. Having begun 2010 with a bang I will almost certainly continue it with a few hundred whimpers. This was merely the first.

8 comments:

malty said...

Is January broke already? it needs a good Micawbering.

worm said...

My self-loathing is actually marginally less this New Year than in previous ones, so that's something to be happy about I suppose

Gaw said...

At least that post title should get you some intrigued (and perhaps intriguing) new readers from Google.

Brit said...

Fraid so, Malty.

Worm - self-loathing? I thought happiness was your superpower.

And yes, Gaw - though not as shameless as the Yard's post a while back entitled "Britney Spears' Rack".

worm said...

I am normally a happy soul, but unfortunately my birthday falls on the second of Jan every year, which normally means I stay awake from the 31st through to the 2nd, meaning that the combined effect of a monstrous comedown, getting older and going back to work often combines in a perfect storm of pain. This year I seem to be quite chipper though!

Brit said...

Happy Birthday.

Willard said...

Ah! Makes me remember the agonizing pain of sitting next to the hot radiators in maths after spending an hour being flogged around a freezing cold rock hard rugby pitch in the name of PE.

Brit said...

Amazing how these things stay with you, isn't it? Or else suddenly come back to you when you least expect it.