I walked up to Phinney Ridge with the girls at lunchtime to buy a book and some matches. It was chilly, with the threat of rain in the air. Half way home, the rain started, and then intensified, and every time I thought it couldn’t get harder, the rain redoubled its efforts to soak us. My trousers were wet through, and this was a cold, hard rain that sucked the hope out of us, as we struggled home. Trying to persuade small children to walk and not just lollygag in the deluge turns out to be harder than you’d expect.
Still, we got back ok, and everyone changed into dry clothes. I retreated to the bedroom and worked for a few more hours, although it’s been hard to focus, what with being soaked, and running out of things to do as the year stutters to an end.
My wife sent me out for chard; I came back with the news that it was snowing a few blocks north of us, while it carried on bucketing down rain. And then the snow came.
The girls were gleeful. I was in a grump, as a result of drinking a very strong cocktail of rum, lime juice and essence of fig that we’d concocted, so while the kids ran around in the dark, shrieking with happiness, I stumbled about, worrying about our carpet getting wet. Am I just no fun in the winter?
The kids went to sleep, I zombified myself in front of the TV, then mucked about in VR for a little while. Three days to go, better write my wife and daughters some Christmas cards, I suppose …