Back from holiday

Subtitle: I Will Survive

And so she’s back!
From outer Banff!
I just walked in to sunny spring
With a hopeful look upon my face
I should have heard from that competition
I should have won the lottery
But instead I find bills and a second
Work project waiting for me
Go on now go
Walk out the door
Just turn around Jayne
‘cause your holiday’s over now for sure
Weren’t this sorted out before I said goodbye
Instead I’d eaten apple crumble
And blithely told the bills bye bye
Oh no I sigh
I will survive
As long as I have chocolate
I know I will stay alive
I’ve got all my stories to tell
I’ve got ebay and etsy items to sell
And I’ll survive
I will survive

Oh Canada! We had fun, you and I. But all too soon the days fly and here I am once again, staring out of the office window. I’m pleased to report I am in one piece, no broken bones, which is amazing considering I spent ten days sliding down various mountains at speed. It was blummin’ cold though – the lowest temperature was -35 and we were told to check for frostbite. Yikes. I ended up wearing so many layers and kit that I looked like an undersized Stormtrooper.

I have a bit of jet-lag and work has plunged me into the deep end without a paddle, so comments and posts may be a bit sporadic as I try to catch up around the edges. But there will be a few more posts about lovely Canada coming up soon!

Me!

Lyrics adapted from Gloria Gaynor's song I Will Survive

Snow Cats!

Abigail and Ginger are very curious about these bold white cats who have mysteriously taken up residence on the window ledge.

Sadly I have no pictures of the real Abigail and Ginger playing in the snow to share with you as the look they gave me when I tried to coax them outside would have withered Little Miss Sunshine. So instead let me take you on a little magical journey...

Down a road, not very far away, is a tea shop. It is the most wonderful tea shop ever, but the way to it had been blurred around the edges.



The news person on the television said 'Do not make any unnecessary journeys in the snow', but walking to a tea shop to eat a cupcake was suddenly deemed a very necessary journey to make. So the girl layered up until she was one foot taller and three foot wider, and set off down the road.

In her imagination she went this way...



...and fearlessly tracked snow leopards through jungles and fields...



In reality she walked along here - careful cars breaking the soft silence.



But it wasn't long before she was snugly tucked into her favourite seat, notebook open, tea brewing, and cupcake eaten.



You'd have to be as quick as a snow leopard to photograph this girl with a intact cupcake. But imagine the most loveliest red velvet cupcake - light, fresh, and just plain mmm-delicious, and you will know why the girl was smiling as she scribbled in her note-book.

Splat-a-Soup

The month-long seclusion in a friend’s parents house would be ideal for writing, were it not for the following things:

1. Work
2. Extra hour /faff time added to commute either way to allow for strangely snowy vista
3. Stupidly signing up for another month of Bikram Yoga torture
4. Looming Tax Return
5. Preoccupation with making soup

Work

I am fortunate enough to have a job I enjoy, for a company I like, alongside folk who are nice to work with. I do realise how extraordinary that is! I do hug the nice job (metaphorically speaking) every opportunity I can. This week saw the successful launch of something I have designed/been working on pretty much ever since I arrived here eight months ago, so as you can imagine it has been a busy start to 2010. Not much time and energy left over in the evenings to write, but the balance should go back to normal now.

Extra hour / faff time

What is it with overground trains in this country, and weather? Do they build trains with nervous dispositions? Signal failures, unannounced delays, and cancellations – the slightest hint of white in the sky seems to guarantee commuter mayhem. Stoically we stand on the platforms and wait, and wait, scalding tongues on too-hot station coffee, and breathing mist into the cold morning air. Several rammed, steamy train rides later and people emerge in offices like survivors who have braved a dangerous journey - red-nosed and grinning, unwinding scarves and stamping Wellingtons.

Bendy torture

I do love Bikram Yoga. I do, honest. It’s just that Bikram Yoga doesn’t especially like me. Maybe I am just not cut out to be one of the zen-like people that sit in calm contemplation in class. This is no doubt due to the way I arrive, a whirl-wind of scarves and bags, fresh from spending forty minutes cursing the slow Metropolitan line. I then have to throw everything off, hurry into my shorts and top, fling everything into one of the only lockers left (either the very top row or very bottom), and then dash into the sauna to grab a mat and throw it on the ground. Then class begins! No wonder I don’t feel very zen. I am beginning to suspect those calm contemplative folk don’t actually work for a living.

Tax Hades

This has to be done as I was still self-employed for some of the last tax year, but I hate doing this with a complete passion. I am just really thick with maths. No matter how much I stare, tap calculators, pencil figures and frown at forms I inevitably end up in a mess. Hence doing the worse thing possible and leaving it to the last few weeks… but those official brown envelope reminders are starting to scare me, so it has to be done.

Splat-a-Soup

Leave me alone and unaided in a kitchen, and something strange happens to me. I start to imagine I am the new Delia Smith of soup-making. Saucepans will clatter down from on high, knives will be wielded, vegetables will be sliced and diced. Sometimes a commentary will be given to the sink, or the cat. I will not follow recipes – pah to recipes! And hence I will create a splat. Tasty splats granted, but still not the sort of thing you’d serve someone else if you want them to come back. More work needed, I feel.

Despite such diversions, I’ve made it to chapter 13 of the redraft. Whoo! And hello to new followers - thank you for investing time in this blog! You are very welcome.

Snoooooooooooow!

Too excited to post more at present. I have just offered my services as a walking escort to my mum so she can get to work, since all transport as we know it has picked up its skirts and shrieked at the prospect of moving through snow. I will return with photographs! Or I’ll be out playing working somewhere. Ahem.

Update...

I don't think I will seek full-time employment as a walking snow-cab. According to AA Route Planner, I have managed 9.6 miles today, trudging there and back twice through snow. The first time I did it in my trainers, the second time I togged myself up as if I was on the Alps. Out came my snowboarding boots, jacket, fleece, and a little snoody thing pulled up over my ears bought from Sunshine Valley in Banff (oh Canada, how I miss thee in this weather). I looked like a serious snow walker. Either that, or I looked like I was insane.

I love that quiet that descends during a snow-fall. No traffic, no birds, no people passing by - just a soft whomp every so often as snow falls from a tree bough. Children delighted with a day off school coax parents out into the front garden to make fat snowmen. Elderly men grimly shovel the snow off their path, trousers tucked into socks. Teenagers forget the studied attitude they drag around with them and revert to children, giggling and flinging snowballs at each other. The television and radio revert back to old-style importance, family gathering to watch reports of people snowboarding in Brighton, ski-ing down Primrose Hill in London, sledging in York. Cupboards are checked as if preparing for seige conditions, bread and milk are rationed. People acknowledge each other more than usual, and nod as they walk past. I like that most of all.