Saturday, 23 March 2013

Cold as a Ghost.

The snow showers eventually ran out of steam this morning, so big brother stepped up to the plate and we had a blizzard instead. It was still blizzarding a bit when I went out for the walk tonight, scorning the snow being driven into my face on a 20mph wind and temperatures fit to scare the living daylights out of a brass monkey. That’s what I call true grit (as opposed to true grits, which is revolting and something with which no self-respecting Englishman would ever want to be associated.)

The night walk is no longer just a pleasure, you see; it’s become something akin to a duty. I’m practicing for when I acquire the status of ghost, and Mill Lane becomes my haunting ground. I want doting mothers to warn their children against the perils of being alone after nightfall on the lonely stretch of lane that runs from the pub to the old railway station.

‘They do say as it wears a woolly ’at and tattered clothes as be a-fallin’ apart at the seams, and carries a little blue light that swings back and forth as it walks. And no one ever sees it leave Lid Lane, and no one ever sees it reach Green Lane, so if it be a nat’ral thing, where do it come from, where do it go? And there be them as say it sometimes sings strange songs in a low and mournful voice, be the weather fair or foul, the wind mellow or bitter, the sky starry or mist laden. But of course, these be the ramblings of mad people, because no one that has ever seen it has stayed sane for a single day henceforward.’

Meanwhile, my kitchen is sweltering in the heady heights of 5°C (41°F,) which makes it officially a fridge again. More good practice.

6 comments:

Sara said...

You should have dug up Miss Charlotte. What's left of her would have kept remarkably well in your house.

JJ Beazley said...

I could sit her in a chair, then invite young women in to take a shower, couldn't I?

I assume you mean Charlotte Bronte? She wasn't a Miss. She was married and pregnant when she died.

Sara said...

Whoops. I've got to stop leaving comments in the morning before my brain's fully engaged.

And I'll admit to more stupidity: I have no idea what your first sentence is referencing.

JJ Beazley said...

Not stupid, Sara, please. Didn't somebody once say something like:

'We call people ignorant when they don't know something we didn't know until five minutes ago.'

I'm paraphrasing (badly) but you get the point. I didn't know that Turkey had a European bit and an Asian bit until you prompted me to find out.

So, do you mean 'the snow showers ran out of steam?' It simply means they came to a stop. It's a common expression here, and it didn't occur to me that Americans might not be familiar with it.

Sara said...

Ignorance, yes. You're right. I had a teacher once ask me if I'd rather be ignorant or stupid.

No, sir, I meant this sentence: "I could sit her in a chair, then invite young women in to take a shower, couldn't I?"

Should have been more specific. :]

JJ Beazley said...

When you suggested I could dig Charlotte up and keep her in the house, my mind naturally gravitated to Norman Bates, his mother, and the shower scene. I assume you've seen 'Psycho.'

I do realise, by the way, that I tend to be a bit tangential in my thought processes. I imagine people must frequently roll their eyes and ask 'What the hell's he talking about?'