Tuesday, December 9, 2008

8th December - Ice is nice, but I prefer it with a gin and tonic

WTF? Loosely translated WTF means, what on earth? This little micro climate that is
La Chapelle Janson has me baffled. One minute you are sheltering from the rain the next, you are falling arse over tit on the ice on the path. I have gone to bed in horizontal rain to wake up to ice as far as I can see, then gone to bed freezing and wishing I had never been born being awoken by those little pebbles on top of the caravan. You know the ones where the rain drops carry small stones in their back packs.

Last night it was fairly cold, nothing more than you would expect. But as the night pushed itself up the hill of the next day, I could feel La Chapelle work its magic. The pillows start to become ice sheets and then someone starts to tighten the vice on my head, the cold bites and I contemplate suffocating under my quilt rather than be frozen to death with a pointless expression on my face. In the morning, after my taser shot, I enabled myself out of bed to what could only be described as an ice curtain. My work clothes where were I had left them, stood up by themselves in my shape. Whilst I pulled on my attire, I noticed that the door handle was glistening. Upon closer inspection I realised that the enitre door frame was covered in ice.

When one lives their dream, I always thought that one would prance around as if you had just won a contract with Colgate, just because you have a permanent smile on your face. Not so. You take what the univserse throws at you and you laugh, it's the only approriate response. One makes their bed and they had better lie in it. Though I challenge anyone to try my bed, I think you would rather sleep in the trees.

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