Monday, 27 December 2010
This Christmas has seen exceptionalisely cold weather and snow, seemingly harking back to the Dickensian age, 5 years ago. Record-breaking cold temperatures plunged Britain into an icy madness, which I was fortunate enough to be able to avoid by wearing extra socks and sitting next to a blazing hearth in my study. Fuel did run precariously short at one point and I was forced to burn most of my manservant's meagre possessions.
But, upon drawing the curtains this morning I saw the ice has melted and so took Wortha out for an enjoyable brisk constitutional along the canal. The dull wintry light and last remnants of fog lent the murky water an ethereal, dreamlike quality which made my wife's witterings seem almost bearable and as we marched along I was struck with the hope and inspiration the New Year can sometimes bring. Suddenly, though, we heard a stirring in the shrubbery to our left. A peculiar scratching and scrabbling noise, accompanied by high-pitched swearing. Drat! The street-urchins were thawing out and after several weeks of being buried in the snow were anxious to get back up to their usual mischief so that they might be able to afford a crust to eat. The vicious little scamps.
Wortha and I immediately upped our briskness and made our escape. Fortunately most of the Urchin's toes had been lost due to severe frostbite and so they were unable to follow us for any distance.
After such a traumatic experience we stopped in a local eatery and had ourselves a nice steaming hot cup of tea and full english breakfast.
And so on that note, I hope you had a Merry Christmas and wish you all a happy and prosperous New Year!