Snow family

While other things are going on, here is something I made earlier.

snow family

The Offspringses were colour-coded as children so they all knew whose was which flannel, toothbrush, sunhat etc. Here we all are as snowpersons. Sigoth is a huge Dr Who fan so he got the cool scarf because I didn’t knit a fez and bow-tie this time around. Maybe next year…because bow-ties are cool. As are fezzes.

Happy holidays!

Dreamtime

I don’t often remember my dreams nowadays, but I did the other morning. I know you will be eager to hear about it so make yourself comfortable and I’ll begin.

Before I do, though, hands up anyone who dreams in colour? For some reason this question seems to keep coming up and I am somewhat bemused. Doesn’t everyone?  How would you know which bottle of wine to pick otherwise, or is that just me?

To the dream then…

The reason I asked about colour was that it was a strange mixture of black and white with colour mixed in, like they do for special effects sometimes. It was a dark and snowy night, so things were pretty monochrome naturally. We were in a wood, with the moon shining through gaps in the wind-blown clouds. I thought to myself, “This is like a dream I had when I was little and being chased by a witch on her broomstick in the forest.”

Of course there was no witch, that was a silly childish dream.

I was in a race. I had to ride an old Victorian bicycle, a boneshaker (although the umpire called it a Penny Farthing, which it clearly wasn’t; the man was an idiot). I was dressed in uniform because I was a member of the US Cavalry. Do you suffer gender changes in dreams too? Anyway, I was in the race for the honour of whatever group of cavalry people I was supposed to belong to. The uniform was brown. I could see the trousers as I cycled through the snowdrifts. It was hard work.

My opponent was a Mountie on a moose.  This was the really colourful bit. His coat was bright red so he showed up in the snow and the moonlight.

The moose was moose colour, but it was not a normal moose. I think that goes without saying, but this moose was a Dr Seuss Moose. It had big floppy furry feet, like a Muppet, and it galumphed over the snow without sinking. I felt this gave the Mountie an unfair advantage.  However, as moose (meece?) don’t like to run uphill, I was holding my own despite the snow. Maybe it all evened out.

We were crashing and gasping through the trees in the dark and the blizzard. Have you seen The Snowman? It was like the motorcycle ride through the woods, although we didn’t see any foxes. The Mountie kept yelling to me, but he was yelling in Quebecois, which I couldn’t follow what with the wind and the pedalling and the being so out of breath. I thought, “Thank goodness I’m in the cavalry because it means I’m fitter than in real life.” Do you have that kind of layer of awareness when you dream, sometimes, that it is a dream, and just kind of interesting to watch?

I would like to tell you I won. I would like to tell you I made him eat my slush. At least I didn’t lose. I was saved by Sigoth’s alarm going off.

OK, it was a stupid ream without a beginning, middle or end. Aren’t they all? And I never promised you a structured and articulate narrative.

Sleep tight.

Namaste.

 

Snow train

The train had arrived early in Leeds in spite of Snowmageddon. Our management had told people to leave early in case of travel problems, with a predicted 15cm of snow across the Pennines which would inevitably cause difficulties for those travelling more than a few yards from Leeds City Centre. I left at my planned time and the train arrived early. It hadn’t read the memo, or, indeed, the weather forecast, and had crossed the Pennines in excellent time.

At York we sat outside the station for a long time, trapped as two other not-very-useful Engines gossiped idly on platform 5. We imagined them stamping their wheels and rubbing their fenders to keep warm, sheltered snugly under the Victorian roof and thinking little, caring less, for Engines which had arrived early or kept to their timetable.

“We’re waiting for two other trains to move so we can come in on Platform 5,” the conductor announced, keen to demonstrate his frustration and lack of culpability. We were all in it together alright.

The minutes crawled by, slow in the frozen wind, and we waited. There was sighing and tutting and raising of eyebrows. None of them achieved a forward momentum. I played Sudoku on my phone. It didn’t seem worth calling home where Sigoth was snuggling and thinking of dinner. Other passengers however chose to share their outrage with loved ones, and many conversations ensued along the lines of “I’m stuck outside York now, we’re waiting for a platform.” It was generally followed by a character-defining pronouncement of either “hopefully not long now” or “probably be ages, bloody trains”.

Eventually another trian strolled past heading north.

“That’s the culprit!” the conductor told us. “Feel free to gesticulate as he goes by!”

And everyone laughed. Some of us waved, ironically I’m sure. People turned to their neighbours and smiled and agreed it was good to have a conductor with a sense of humour. We felt warm and companionable, thanks to a single quip. Onward, fellow travellers!

One man made everyone’s miserable, cold, frustrating journey better. How easy it is to share a little joy, if only we remember to try.

Namaste.

 

Snow Dalek

Yesterday in breaks from decluttering, I sat and sipped tea and read. Sigoth, however, is a man of action, and went outside to play in the snow.

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It looked more sinister after dark!

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For those of you with snow, I hope you manage to have some fun with it too!

Namaste