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Snow

¦ dialling in from Jesus Mound ¦

08:40 GMT, Friday 18th December 2009.  I'm sitting at the oak refectory table in that beautiful blue white light that comes with heavy snow cover.  To my left, double french doors and two wide windows look out onto decking, all the hard edges wrapped in snow, beyond the garden and the dense forest...the rich contrast of deep evergreen and white dusting.

Yesterday, I spent two hours dressed in jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, soaking wet, working outside in temperatures just above zero, grimacing with the burning sensation as I had my hands in water a lot of the time. I finally fixed the fekking blocked downpipe from the guttering.  Earlier I'd been sat in the cafe, as I've been doing almost every morning now, writing... and suddenly something "rare" and amazing happened. The sun came out.  Holy sheeeeit.  Sunlight kissed my face and I realised it had finally stopped raining.  Now was my first chance in weeks to get out onto the back of the house.

However, Easy Jet charge you £9 GBP to put a bag in the hold of the plane, so I also stick my fingers up at that and travel light, with a carry-on bag.  Light, means no heavy or warm clothing, or spare clothing should the one's you have get wet... such as clearing a blocked gutter of mouldy leaves and stagnant water.  So... the only option I had was to throw on my gym kit.

Deeply satisfying though. And no sooner had I finished then the snow started; which if it had been any warmer would have bee more fekking rain.

When I realised how much snow had fallen last night, I threw on my walking boots, a thick woolen jumper and my snood and hat and headed out for a stroll through the ancient streets of Jesmond.  Tunes on my headphones.  A magical moment, coming back into our street, a blizzard of snow coming down, and Dead Can Dance - Within the Realm of a Dying Sun playing spookily... it was a real Cthulhu moment.  I stood there for five minutes, squinting against the stinging snow flakes zipping into my eyes and bouncing off the visible part of my face, grinning, hot breath from nose and mouth catching in the snood and keeping my jaw warm.

Coming back inside the house, I felt a pang of sadness that I couldn't communicate the experience to my mum. I glanced up at the open doorway to her room, which was in darkness.  But I shrugged off the negative cloak and smiled and brewed up a hot mug of tea, sat down in an armchair and spent some time reading through the proof copy of Pete's first novel.

Oj and Sharky are supposed to be driving up from the South West tomorrow, to spend the next few days here leading up to Christmas, as they have done for the past 7 years.  This is the last one we'll ever do together here, like this, in Kosekroken.  However there is a forecast for more heavy snow fall so I'm hoping they'll be able to actually make it.