...and then it snowed.
From empty streets when entering the dentists to these lively flurries moments later.
I never fail to be in awe of the weather, and it's ability to totally change a scene in minutes. Not just the looks, but also the danger level.
I have to return to the dentists at 5pm. Mmmm.... Might leave some time to clear the car.
Maybe all this is special to me because I am rarely out these days.
Happy snow, everyone.
It's almost impossible to follow a post like the last one. I feel the weight of responsibility having said what I said.
I should start by thanking everyone who commented so positively and kindly. I never fail to be touched and delighted by the supportive comments I receive here. You people, who are kind enough to read my blog, are good people, and I am very glad to know you.
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I was hearing on the radio today that global warming is no longer a theory - it is happening right now. The learned professor was telling us that it is extremely unlikely that anything can be done to stop a significant change in climate till about 2050, when some of the measures we are starting to put in place may have taken effect.
Till then, we must reap the damage already done and concentrate our efforts on minimising the effects. On the plus side, winters are warmer and so we are witnessing less deaths due to cold. On the negative side, there are more floods and we stand a significant risk of a severe heatwave one summer which could kill thousands.
When I look at a picture of the world taken from space at a particular angle, I can just see the glow of our atmosphere. Boy, does it look small. Barely enough to colour in, were the world a colouring book. (which it isn't, but imagine what fun it would be if it was?) Our very existence hangs by a thread, and yet we don't seem to care. Our fragility has little meaning for us.
We could walk out into the street without looking and get hit by speeding gnu, causing our sudden, bloody and furry death. It COULD happen. Yet we feel so safe in the intricate constructs of our lives. We have our rules, our clothes, our houses, our social gatherings, our conventions, our language, our food, our entertainment, and our many and varied jobs. In the peak of life, when we have all these things running smoothly, maybe we dare to feel complete.
I'm not so sure. I think part of us - maybe just a tiny part - but part of us is aware that we are little bundles of skin, bones and water, clinging to a spinning world with a pencil-thin strip of air to keep us alive. I think it is this little part of us - the one that has a clue about our true place in the firmament - which seeks for more meaning to life than is afforded by merely dancing the dance expected of us by society.
Sure, it passes the time, and there is a comforting rhythm to it, but that life which seems so normal literally hangs by a thread for us all. If one person close to us died - if a marriage broke up - if someone became chronically ill - if the waters rose and flooded your home or your town. So many things could upset that delicately poised apple-cart that is our everyday lives.
We are a truly fortunate generation - living after two awful world wars and probably dying shortly before the next, where our enemy is likely to be the elements around us. Our children, and especially our children's children will fight it, and I hope they find ways to equip themselves well for what lies ahead.
So, in the last years of cheerful waste and thoughtless living, how will you choose to live your life? This amazing freedom we have been granted is also a fragile thing. Surely we need to use it wisely and enjoy it thoroughly while we still can.
But what, I hear you ask, about that part of us seeking for more meaning to life? I believe that is our in-built need to find God - and it is interesting to see how different people endeavour to satisfy it - or not. From obsessive hobbies to mystical beliefs of all sorts, people certainly seek high and low in an attempt to scratch their spiritual itch.
Or they just get busy and try to ignore it. It usually works, I'm told. Unless they think too hard. In response, I think I would urge everyone to think too hard. Maybe even harder than that. It's worth it.
We're still waiting for the thunder...
Britain's real autumn weather is here.
If, like me, you enjoy the relief from the heat of summer - then, like me, you will appreciate the irony of days like today.
Whilst it is so pleasant to feel the crispness in the air each morning and even the crunch underfoot of crispy leaves, this kind of dismal grayness represents the less attractive end of the spectrum. You sun worshippers out there also have a slight embarrassment for those days when it is too humid to even think clearly - I guess this is just proof that nothing is ever completely clear cut.
For me, the grayness fails to damp my spirits today. It brings with it a sense of 'cosyness' and an enjoyment of being indoors. There is, it has to be said, little worse than seeing wonderful weather outside and yet having to stay indoors and work.
I suppose now that I have said all that, I might actually be able to say what I really wanted to say all along.
It's been an exceptional week. I need to say sorry to all the people I should have rung back, installed things for, met with, talked to, explained things to and mended things for. I have let you down, and I apologise. If it is any comfort, I haven't had time to do much stuff for myself either.
The week has been taken up with the frenzied finishing off of a DVD project for the Wansbeck Business forum. I have been working with PH most of the time, so even taking your calls has been difficult. I'm not used to sharing my office with people for any extended period of time - particularly with both of us working at the same workstation, so it has created a new circumstance for me to adjust to.
When I work alone, I can apportion my time as I see fit - breaking off to make calls, or do anything else, whenever it suits me. With someone else is there the whole time it is much different. Work just goes on solidly with few interruptions. As the job has neared completion, the pressure has risen, which has not made me the best person to get along with. Again, I apologise to one and all if you have been on the receiving end of this.
It has become clear that I need to think through this issue, and the sub-issues that it raises, so that work can be done on a similar basis in the future, but without the accompanying stress rising to unacceptable levels. The great side-effect of it now being complete is that I feel fantastic - a real sense of euphoria that the work is done and the disc is ready for the outside world.
Now, the weekend is here - and all I have to do is catch up with all the work I have not done because of the DVD project, play a gig on both Saturday and Sunday night, play piano at church sunday morning and also go to a gig at the Sage on Sunday night. Easy, right?
In case you're wondering: We set up for our band's gig at 6pm on Sunday night. Then we cross the river to the Sage and see Pink Martini at 7pm, returning to the Copthorn Hotel in time to play around 9.30-10pm. I'll leave my phone on silent in order receive any desperate text messages indicating we are to play earlier. As Jason will be with me, I doubt they will attempt to play without a drummer or keyboard player. Will they?
Liz is away this weekend. Maybe that is just as well, bearing everything in mind.
Thanks for reading. I hope your weekend is great - and that I see you at some point.
Not quite the scene one expects in March
As I drove away from Blyth tonight, I experienced that crunchy quietness that is only possible when it has snowed and settled. It was actually quite exciting.
Living in Stanley for so long made me dread the snow, as it always meant difficulty in getting around and often spells of digging, squirting and scraping - but not necessarily in that order. This year in NBTS, I almost felt that winter had sneaked by without so much as a wave.
As I sat in the warm spring sunshine last week, I reflected on how idyllic the weather was here. Every morning, bar very few, the sunshine rises over the sea and warms us in our bed before we even get up. Even when overcast skies are forecast, NBTS seems to manage a ray of sunlight here and there. It's extraordinary.
Now, tonight, the reality of a late cold snap has struck with some gusto. I'm relieved really, because no winter at all would have been truly freaky. Those long hot sticky months are not far away and we need something to contrast them with.
When it does come so late, it rarely stays for long, so I think I'll just enjoy it while it lasts and snuggle up warm in bed. Mmmm....that's a nice idea.
Good night. :)
... that it's better weather in NBTS than in Stanley.
(Picture taken in Stanley - today)
A light dusting of snow in NBTS
I don't think there will be any more in the next 48 hours though - certainly not a proper fall of snow enough to sledge or ski in. In duelling terms, this is no more than a scratch.
Well, the weather forecast suggests that we are finally in for some of the white stuff, but I'm not so sure. It seems to me that whenever it is forecast, it rarely happens, and when we're least expecting it, it falls like on Ice Station Zebra.
It would certainly be something to see some snow in warm and sunny Newbiggin. Since we have arrived here it has seemed like the majority of the days have been sunny. The sun rises in front of our bedroom window and shines really brightly at the moment. Much less like winter, much more like spring.
So, I say - No snow. Not here. Part of me wants to be very wrong though.
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