A blur of . . .
. . . well, hellhounds, among other things. I’m unbelievably tired and whacked out, even on my recent usual scale of tired and whacked-out-ness, and even as Lo Text Mondays go this is going to be lo lo looooo, er, low. And blurry. I also need to try the assault on my hill while the temperature is still below freezing: the idea is to hang out around here at the mews whilst the last moments of melt go on outdoors—and then whip down* to the cottage just before it drops below the evil magic number again. The very thought of tomorrow makes me cry: we had about two inches of snow this afternoon, followed by several hours of slow drip . . . which is about to be followed by another hard freeze, and tomorrow. . . . I couldn’t walk down my cul de sac’s steep little hill this morning.** And this afternoon when hellhounds and I went out for our second canter the road at the end of the long mews park driveway was solid traffic in both directions—into town because a lorry had broken down at the bottom of the hill at the crossroads and no one in Hampshire had a spare recovery vehicle that had the traction to cope with dragging him out of the way, and out of town because the dual carriageway was down to one crawling lane in both directions due to snow and at least one ambulance that couldn’t get through.
And of course there’s PEGASUS.
And the final blow is that someone near and dear to us has been in an awful car crash and we aren’t going to know for at least a couple of days what the prognosis is. Peter, being a British male, is soldiering on. I’m trying not to disperse into my component atoms. But I do kind of want to lie down and curl up and snivel. The bad news ruined the hell out of tonight’s opera, which was the Damnation of Faust, and I think was probably a pretty good production.
So let us distract ourselves with hellhounds. Lovely funny silly hellhounds. This is why domestic animals were invented.
A blur of hellhounds.
And yes, this is all the snow there is. (This grass is pretty long, and some of the snow has melted since out here it’s not being trampled into titanium thaw-proof ice.) If you can get out of town without killing yourself it’s fine.
My hellhounds really make me laugh.
Look at that FACE.
* * *
* And up. Ordinarily the down-and-upness of Hampshire is one of its charms.
** I tottered uphill to my parking slot, and hellhounds and I then slid majestically down the slope in Wolfgang, praying there wouldn’t be anyone in the road when we got there. There’s actually a little relatively level and relatively bare spot just before you squash any pedestrians, and before you get to the road proper. This is good.
And the first amaryllis/hippeastrum of the season. Yaaay.
And in my mission to keep you up to date with my footgear I felt that you really needed to see these tights from the OBE party. Are they good or what. The little ankle boots are good too but the tights rule. And just by the way, it’s REALLY HARD to take a photo OF YOUR OWN LEGS. (Note to self: really must find out how to do auto-photo.)
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