Well, it’s quite obvious that Tom and I didn’t sink enough Port around the Winter Solstice to encourage the return of the Light. Or maybe we should have poured it into the earth? (Oh no! Quelle horreur. Surely that would have been too dreadfully primitive for words.)
Whatever we did wrong it is beginning to feel like ‘The Day After Tomorrow’ round here and I was seriously suspecting the Gulf Stream of turning in its tracks, but as I’m told it has been up to 9c in Cornwall in the last week I suppose it can’t have - yet!
The day of the Book Moving it hardly stopped snowing for all the daylight hours. Luckily it was melting as well but there was still plenty laying themselves down and smugly staying. At night it freezes and in the morning there are more pretty white flakes fluttering seductively downwards. It must have been bad everywhere because the celebrations (with promised fireworks) in Inverness were cancelled and I don’t think much happened in town here, although no doubt the local paper will have a computer generated image of huge crowds at the Cross bringing in 2010 in the time honoured way (getting-off-yer-face actually.) To further celebrate Hogmanay neither the roads nor the pavements in the High Street have been cleared since early New Year’s Eve and anyway there was no effort at all made to clear the small side streets before that so I haven’t been out for the last 48 hours.
I’ve watched a lot of TV, of which more later, and been dredging around in the deep freeze ( the indoor one) for treats. Amazing what has surfaced. G’son and I will lunch on quorn cottage pie (home-made but for the quorn of course) and for supper there is to be squid in garlicky tomato sauce. I love cooking squid. I’m looking forward to preparing the little sacs once they defrost, then watching the rings shrivel & curl and go opaque when I dry them out in the non-stick frying pan. So much entertainment to be had from cooking! G’son now baulks at the tentacles and I accuse him of going all girlie on me.
There’s a parcel of sprats in the icy depths but I think they’ve been there since August so I may dump them when the garbage collection is due. Which reminds me of a shameful fact. I’ve been playing ‘house’ for 43 years and grumbling about smelly rubbish bins all that time, especially these days when the pickup for household waste has been reduced to fortnightly. Not beng a gardener I don’t have a compost heap (and have really never wanted one) so chicken carcasses and fish bones are a malodorous nuisance which it had not occurred to me to - freeze until the bin-man cometh!! It took my ex and his estimable wife to point this out as a solution. I hang my head in humiliation.
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