I know that us Brits are really unaware of what a real winter is like. We have no appreciation of the accumulation of day upon day of snow and falling temperatures. We are blissfully unaware of the real possibility of serious injury or death resulting from such conditions.
Prior to my early childhood’s sub-zero ordeal, it was only during Dickensian times that we were treated to truly bloody cold winters. And I, for one, am grateful for that. My body hates the cold.
This year has seen plunging temperatures all across the globe. That great wit, statesman, and changing weather-patterns expert, Donald Duck (Trump), took time out to josh about the freezing conditions, hoping for a little that ‘old global-warming’. What a character, though I did have some time for Goofy. Old Donald is so busy tweeting his wisdoms that he forgets about other things such as the closing down of congress. Oh, deary, deary me. What a daft old duck.
My eldest daughter took me out for a decent run yesterday. She ran for ten and a half miles whilst I did about six and a half (and that was with frequent stops). Put plain and simply, I was knackered. She wasn’t. Since coming back from France, she has been training hard. I used to be a little bit faster than her, but those days seem to have gone.
However, I put my lack of form down to the fact that I tend to enjoy a six-week layoff during the colder, darker days. Once I am up and running again, my form will return. Yesterday was the start of my comeback. This morning is the beginning of my achy back, legs, arms, neck and ego…And all because of winter.
It is a televisual tradition during the winter months for the BBC to air a programme on Sunday tea-time called Ski-Sunday. Basically, this involves lots of well-to-do athletes racing down the snowy inclines of mountains in Europe or in the States. I never liked it or watched it. Skiing for me is something that you do because you have to in order to not have to walk on the white-stuff. I am in the minority. I know plenty of people who ski. they spend a fortune on it with winter breaks and ski-lifts, off-pistes, on the pistes…
My point so far is that I have no point, just a freezing Monday morning to look forward to. Sod the bloody skiing…