29 December 2017
Well, its been and gone. The Christmas festivities, family, food, fun and frolics all consigned to the fading memory banks for another year.
Its been great being home but, know what,.......I'm cold. Really cold. After eleven months toiling under the tropical sun, day in, day out my skinny wee frame is suffering horribly in the dark, drafty, cold and damp. And that's just in the house.
Way back, when my poor old pop was in "the home" there was a dear old biddy whose obsession was to go around opening the windows. Not a big deal in the summer but in winter, the staff would having apoplexy, dashing around in her wake slamming the windows shut before any of the other guests got the flu.
It's been like that here. All my family and friends, who seem to have thicker blood than me, gaily throw open the windows embracing the arctic blast the follows. As soon as their backs are turned, I unwrap myself from my duvet, shuffle over to the windows and slam them shut. Five minutes later, click, creak and.......whoosh. Another blast of icy air and the house temperature plummets to a bracing new low to cries of delight and, "isn't that fresh Scottish air just lovely". As the room temperature drops, so does my core temperature. Heating seems to be an unnecessary extravagance.
I'm like Sanka from Cool Runnings (in the Rasta hat).
Meanwhile, outside, the Canada geese are wandering around the fields looking slightly bemused, if not pissed off as, having flown thousands of miles to get away from the arctic winter. Guess what! It's here.