The Vamp Who Came In From The Cold

It’s cold.

It’s so cold, I can’t move my face.

This is what it must be like to have Botox.

Let me explain. I’m not too aware of the actual sensation of feeling cold, but I do tend to notice small things like having no sensation in my toes or fingers.

I remember back in school, many, many decades ago, we had a PE teacher who we called Witch Hazel for no apparent reason (but then I also got the nickname ‘Lily-Trot’ using similar logic).

It would be this time of year and hockey season was in full swing. Witch Hazel would be standing there in full North Pole gear, looking like the infernal offspring of a 1970s Football Manager and a Grizzly Bear. Sheepskin coat, wooly hat, fur-lined gloves etc.
Anyway, she’d be standing there with only her nose exposed to the elements (well, one element – ice!) and there was us in our shorts and T-shirts, icicles hanging off our ears.

Get moving!” she’d shout “You’ll soon warm up!

It was a lie.

And that’s when I discovered the existence of FOPs.

FOPs

Fluorescent Orange Patches.

The skin on my thighs would be so cold that these little bright, bright orange patches would appear. I have no idea why. I think it might have been some kind of protest march by my skin cells. Not quite sure either what my blood cells were up to. On the whole, they’re a bit like me  – they keep themselves to themselves. They were disconcerting, but they encouraged me to keep moving in case anyone decided to play join-the-dots with my legs…

And then there’s the human obsession with snow…

This confuses me…

I’ve heard “One swallow does not a summer make” but it seems one snowflake will a blizzard make.

Did that even make sense?

One flake, and everybody is going crazy. The scenes in supermarkets are like something you’d expect to see at the End Of Days. Yes, because when the end of the world comes, I want to make sure I have enough milk and bread to see me through Judgment Day.
And then there’s the other classic of confusion…

“It’s too cold to snow.”

TOO COLD?

Yup, the cold is so hardcore, even the snowflakes are too scared to come out.
But I’ll finish there with one useful rule of thumb.

You know it’s cold when washing your hands in hot water warms them up.
You know it’s really cold when you warm them up by washing them in cold water.

Stay warm, everyone.

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Tumble crumbles

“Autumn falls, tumbling, crumbling down a dying hill of gold.”

…is a line that never made it into a book. I know. I read the manuscript. The original one. Funny how so much of what we plan ends up on the scrap heap. While this wasn’t the most eloquent piece of prose ever (probably why it never made the final cut), when I read the published book, I was quite surprised at how changed it was.

Life, eh?

If you hang around long enough, everything changes.

If you hang around a bit longer, everything changes back again.

So, autumn’s here. The clocks go back soon. Longer nights. Yippee!

And no, that wasn’t an ironic ‘yippee’ either.

Everything is quieter now.

Bliss.

Of course, it’ll get crazy at the end of the month (Halloween). And then next month everyone will be celebrating the ritual burning of a political scapegoat. I’ll be avoiding the firework fumes while dealing with a freaking-out furbaby. Bonfire night will no doubt be spent in the bathroom (her current hidey-hole) listening to Chopin. But as life goals go, that’s not such a bad one.

Ah. Life Goals.

You know how everyone does this whole ‘summer body’ obsession? Well, in our house we get ‘winter body‘ ready.

And no, that doesn’t mean we spend November eating celery so that Christmas Day can be spent repeatedly eating our own weight in mince pies and pigs-in-blankets. Who the heck came up with that name? Have you ever seen a pig, or indeed any farm animal, wrapped up in a blanket? Outside of a YouTube video, that is. I’m sure there must be some. Let me know if you find any.

And these days, why aren’t they called Heritage-breed-in-duvets..?

Stop rambling!

Right. Note to self, taken.

It’s all too easy to disappear in hibernation mode at this time of year. Vanish into the marshmallow-morass of duvet-days, hot chocolate, and comfort foods. The one episode of a favourite tv show becomes a binge-watch of the entire series.

You know what I mean.

It’s okay, I won’t tell.

So, the following plan has been put into play:

  • drink more water
  • go running more often
  • start eating more raw stuff
  • YOGA!!!!!
  • get more sleep

Okay, I had to stop after the last one. Combination of laughing too much to type, and the temptation to follow it up with ‘find where the unicorns live‘…

So, as it’s the 1st of October, I’ll close by saying:

White rabbits, everyone!

 

Let’s Dance

An inevitable move is approaching. A vampire can’t keep their head down forever. Except on a sunny day. But this is Britain, after all, so… no…

Taking a break from keeping the heads down, the hubster and I decided that, given that there’s not a blue moon due any time soon, we would throw caution to the wind and socialise. The operative word here is caution. On so many levels. We went bowling.

Yes.

Bowling.

Essentially throwing a  heavy lump of plastic at a bunch of other bits of plastic (or wood – not sure which), hoping that they’ll connect and fall over. So then, the opposite of what we all try to do in our daily lives – which is not knock things over. I mean, since we’re first able to walk around by ourselves, our parents and well-meaning adults move everything possible out of our way so we don’t knock everything over. For years, it’s

“Be careful!”

“Look where you’re going!”

“Watch out for that [object]!”

“Mind you don’t knock [item] over!”

And then you find yourself in a bowling alley in rented shoes, and suddenly you’re let loose with a load of deadly balls and told to go nuts.

What?!

As we all know, knocking a few things over is usually annoying. Case in point: there’s a whole bunch of YouTube videos about cats knocking things over and I don’t hear anybody congratulating the little furballs…

And what is it about bowling that suddenly makes it alright to do strange little dances?  Who does that in everyday  life?!

“I just put the milk back in the fridge… oh yeah ah-ha.” [does an elaborate wiggle/fist-pumping combo]

“I’ve just done the washing up and I’m doing the robot.”

Well, if you get excited over doing the washing up then it’s because of one of two things :

one you’re extremely easy to please or…

two  dinner around your house must be an adventure because if washing-up is such a big thing then… yikes?

(You know I’m joking!)

And those shoes… Yes… they say you don’t know someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. Well, a good thousand or so people had probably worn those shoes before me, and I still don’t have a clue about any of them.

Okay, so I didn’t walk a mile in them. It just felt like it. Okay, I didn’t walk at all. I may have tottered, strolled, skipped (slightly), skidded and occasionally ended up on my backside in them, but that’s besides the point.

I also saw a sign in the same place for a silent disco. So how does that work? I mean, yes,  I know how it works, but it got me wondering… what happens if you go to a silent disco with someone you like and they want to make a move?

What happens when they want to listen to something really smoochy and you just want to listen to Uptown Funk?!

I reckon there’s going to be a whole load of mixed messages going on right there…

And the potential for a whole load more YouTube videos.

 


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You know it makes sense.