Shoe laces, cassacks and tassles …

1*gZr_ysDuiTpa1OdHCS4kWA.jpegIts been sometime since I last published an item, not for the want of, but, lacking any sort of enthusiasm. Literally.

Today, the East wind blows hard and with plenty of gusto, the huge rolling waves fetch from the opposite side of the English Channel and eventually expire against our beautiful shore. The latter part of Winter is one of the most aggressive time of  year, fortunately here in the South-West we tend to miss most of the snow and disruption. It has been quite sometime since we had a snow over. Even so,  the Siberian wind finds its way into every crevice of my home and many others’

Like an old faithful friend my boiler keeps on puttering along, next stop on the controller will be meltdown. However, I do, and intend to stay warm, being cold is unbearable. Sadly, my gas fire has now finally given up the ghost and at almost £900 to repair, albeit temporarily, an executive decision delays progress, therefore replacing it with a log burner will have to wait until September, at least. Even if it means having to resort to wrapping up like Miss Shepherd, you know the one, she, the vagrant bordering upon genius stroke insanity who lived and slept rough in a battered up old van on someones driveway. (if you are not au fait, Google “Lady in the Van”)

Fortunately, an abundance of hot water means I bear or spread no personal aroma like her.

The beauty and the ferocity of this weather style gives me impetus, in even more ways than one. After sometime not attending my parish church I took on first double duty at Eucharist this morning, although, firstly tripping over my loose shoelace, and almost sending the Holy Gospel flying, secondly, the case of the untied tassels falling down from my waist did not stop the performance either, nor finally did the fact that my offering Chalice became far too empty far too soon.  As is said, no matter what, the show must go on, and go on it did. There were no signs of my hair smouldering as I passed by the daylight shining through the stained glass, nor did any of the gargoyles fall from the tower as I made my exit.

After my sacred duties I am now home, a stomach now full of steak pasty and two flutes of Cava, my treat for being a channel to others. My stags horn candelabra positioned next to my iMac proudly hosts three newly lit candles upon my glass desk, each flickering from the ambient indoor breeze, it’s a good sign. At last momentum is here, finally.  Staring out of my square bay window, my grey matter exercises and wonders as I become totally mesmerised by the beauty of the sea, the untamable element.  White horses compete to win a never-ending race. I stare toward the horizon, exactly where is this snow we were promised? Duly named by the press and media as ‘the Beast from the East’

The bats in my head flutter about and try to establish how to publish my recent deep and sad dark thoughts. For every downside there is an up, and so as the balance of nature and its equilibrium are eventually being restored, a decision to portray my rollercoaster ride will hopefully make you cry tears, preferably with much extreme laughter, exactly in which order I have no idea.