Being the Reluctant Wimp.

We’re having the first taste of winter in the UK at the moment. Down here in the English Midlands the temperature today was low enough to be considered cold even by January standards. It’s been much worse further north.

It had me thinking of times past when several winters showed their meanest faces, and I realised how much stronger, braver, and mentally tougher I was back then when dealing with difficulties and emergencies in unusually harsh winter weather.

Now, as I descend into old age, I’m becoming quite the wimp. I’m brought to depression by every ice-cold blast. I want to go to bed and hibernate until spring instead of fronting up and dealing with whatever needs dealing with. I still do deal with them of course, when it’s really necessary, but not before I’ve realised that seeking an excuse to ignore the whole thing and say ‘I don’t care; what will be will be’ simply won’t do and reluctance must be overcome.

So should I be ashamed of losing the will to fight nature’s nastier side until it retires to a safe distance? I suppose I should and I suppose I do, but life is very different from what it was back in the day. For the most part my sole responsibility is to myself and my little world. There’s nobody out there to lend a hand, so maybe the best approach really is to say ‘I don’t care.’ (But only if I can get away with it.)

Right now the night is dark and very cold and I have one room in the house that is just about tolerable, and I worry about the birds and the animals stuck out in the fields with nowhere to go and get warm. Maybe I should make that post about the talkative techie I encountered in Ashbourne last week, or the way in which my perception of life since I moved to this house has become compartmentalised around certain people and events. Tomorrow, perhaps. Or maybe I should just stop talking about myself.

Time to see what YouTube has to offer. Maybe something will be watchable.