baby, it’s cold outside…
I write today courtesy of the newly-discovered free East Coast wi-fi (which some may suggest ought to be treated with suspicion following the laptop-mangling/annihalation disaster which concluded my last London visit), on my journey home from the notably snowier than usual city of Edinburgh where I have been elegantly residing since Sunday, and feeling rather like an extra in the sort of über-budgeted family blockbuster which usually makes an appearance on general release around December 20th.
The entire city has been swathed in a crisp and sparkly white duvet since my arrival which has made the atmosphere particularly festive, even several days into the New Year and not forgetting to purposefully ignore the lethal-looking quagmire of menacing coal-black slush banked up unavoidably at the sides of the road, a fair amount of which I am bringing home by way of unavoidable souvenir being as it is soaked (in quantity) up the back of my trouserlegs (all of the trousers which fit me nicely everywhere else are far too long for my woefully tiny legs). Fortunately, the gentlemen of Edinburgh are a determinedly robust bunch and other than the almost complete (but considering the appalling weather travelling-wise, not in the least surprising) cancellations on Monday (and a particularly grating no-show on Tuesday just as I thought I had made up the lost ground) I am returning home feeling especially invigorated, in no small part down to the charming company, delightful surroundings, plenty of (very) fresh air and a celestially good scone I had about an hour and a half ago at the John Lewis rooftop restaurant.
All in all a pleasant and revitalising trip and another welcome chance to explore and add to my expanding onboard Google Map; although my slightly ambitious plan to become a walking Sat Nav one city at a time may have been a little premature and I am concentrating on learning the bits I need to know properly for now, at least. As I type, I have no idea whether the trains back to Scarborough have been affected by the weather and a planned 24 hour London dash next Monday will hopefully not be jeopardised, especially as I have been promised afternoon tea, a guitar lesson and possibly a Lebanese meze, time allowing (and bearing in mind that the gentleman making this gallant offer has not yet seen the size of me since the last set of photographs and the subsequent combined efforts of Thornton’s, Mr Kipling and last but not least, a good friend in Scotland who plied me with fragrant Balinese roast duck, leek and potato curry with coconut and coriander, chocolate banana mousse and not forgetting a couple of bucketloads of champagne and a watch of Strictly Ballroom. I have, thriftily as ever, appropriated tickets for the National Express but only time and the Met Office will tell as to whether things go ahead or not, and I will be keeping a keen eye on the forecast over the weekend. I suspect I won’t be the only one.
So far as the remainder of the week goes, tomorrow and Friday are already almost entirely spoken for, weather permitting, and some fairly dedicated housekeeping is also beckoning if for no reason other than at some point soon, the apartment will need to be properly relieved of the last few Christmas tree needles, glitter and tiny shards of hazel and brazil nut shell (December also being the only time of year you can buy proper nuts and I have often wondered how long they keep once purchased; it is easy to assume that things which show no outwardly obvious signs of spoiling somehow occupy a mystical state of suspended animation, a bit like food purchased from Marks and Spencer).
My availability for London appointments towards the end of the month is disappearing fast, and as previously stated ad infinitum, no same day appointments will be taken after 2pm, or with less than two hours notice. Frankly in conditions like those currently prevailing, it will take at least that long to take off the one set of clothes and put on another (and I have wondered more than once if there may be an as-yet-untapped niche market somewhere in fetish-land for the charming baby pink thermals I purchased around this time last year for my trip to Budapest). If this weather keeps up, a few unsuspecting visitors may be finding out – form an orderly queue, folks…
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