The view from the bedroom window suggested cold but inviting; the backlog of jobs – deferred, partly completed, long overdue – demanded restraint and self discipline. There could be only one winner.
There seemed little sense in driving far, so we parked up in a familiar spot about 10 minutes from home and made our first port of call a small pool, frozen apart from an area adjacent to the outflow, where, bearing food, we were greeted with enthusiasm by an assortment of ducks, geese and a pair of swans. In the ensuing chaos we tried to implement sound Marxist distribution theory and make sure every one of them got something according to their needs; but it was impossible to be completely confident.
Hoarfrost clung to just about every surface; even the strands of a barbed wire enclosure were made to look attractive. Progress over frozen tracks was painfully slow at times and the thing we noticed most was how long it took us to warm through; generating, as we were, very little heat from our level of activity. Thumbs, invariably the last thing to get warm for me, were just about opposable again as we reached the half way point.
We got back, rosy-cheeked, red-nosed and invigorated. The jobs, irresponsibly ignored, were still there; waiting. Some of them still are; while I sit here fecklessly keying yet more inane ramblings into a blog. Is it any wonder we don’t have a Lexus and a place in The Caymans?