Yesterday was beautiful. Apart from the occasionally Now Cast, to make certain it was well below forty five Fahrenheit, quite a few Now Casts actually, Saint Barbara's Yahweh didn't have to go into the outdoors. He, or it, remained ensconced in the Dream World, and for those interested whether King Offa had a fondness for the deformed or not, is now totally irrelevant. The King of Kings has spoken and King Offa's beloved Chief Assistant in Afon-Bedd does suffer from several deformities, he is short-armed, he is ruddy of face, and he has the Squeaking Sickness, a pox of the voice box that results in random and often wholly unnecessary utterances.
I'd argue that this year Winter has begun with a fanfare, too cold for Dancing
Girls but definitely fireworks, romper wear and singing. Nor is this Psalm-like
singing, it's more like the feeling an Inuit un-waxed by the tribulations of
modernity, such things as the gas stove and facts, might experience when he or
she stares at the blubber store and doesn't have to go anywhere until the Far
North begins to experience ambient temperatures of around minus ten Centigrade
with bright sunshine, or the Great Northern Spring Time as some might prefer to
call it. And I for one am very grateful that as a species the great majority of
you and I have the capacity to just make things up when it suits us to.