Hmmm... been a month exactly since my last blogpost. I try to update at least a couple of times a month but January went by in a daze of über cold, frequent disruptions to my little old archaic dial-up connection, and attending one funeral after the other of elderly relatives. Now I don't know much about global warming or the Greenhouse Effect or all that environment in-talk but I do know that monsoon-like weather in January is miserably and wretchedly cold. All that rain and fog is bad enough during the monsoon but in frigid January when the walls take on a new emptiness after all the Christmas trimmings have gone back to their boxes, it's major horribilus.
This winter I discovered the joy of something that I've long associated with the sick and the old, especially my grandmother. Namely, the hot-water bag. A good friend of mine, a much much younger friend in fact, often texts me that it's so cold she can't get warm enough even with two hot-water bags. Maybe her immune system's kicked in to it but for me, nothing warms me up faster than a hot bag nestling at my feet beneath the blankets. And no innuendos please. 10 minutes and I'm kicking off my socks and pushing the water bag aside. Mmmm pure bliss.
Of course, what I call cold may be relatively warm compared to other places and temperatures. The pictures on TV of China the last few weeks have been reminding me how lucky I am, and never mind the West because it's always cold there anyway. Always so cold they have Central heating and the works which isn't the case out here. All we have to ward off a shiverfest are woollies, hot-water bags and sigris. But much as I gripe, and much as I love waking up to a beautiful sunny morning, I love winter. Up here in these mountains especially, winter means days of perfect blue skies and warm bright sunshine, and cozy early nights. Now that's magic.
This winter I discovered the joy of something that I've long associated with the sick and the old, especially my grandmother. Namely, the hot-water bag. A good friend of mine, a much much younger friend in fact, often texts me that it's so cold she can't get warm enough even with two hot-water bags. Maybe her immune system's kicked in to it but for me, nothing warms me up faster than a hot bag nestling at my feet beneath the blankets. And no innuendos please. 10 minutes and I'm kicking off my socks and pushing the water bag aside. Mmmm pure bliss.
Of course, what I call cold may be relatively warm compared to other places and temperatures. The pictures on TV of China the last few weeks have been reminding me how lucky I am, and never mind the West because it's always cold there anyway. Always so cold they have Central heating and the works which isn't the case out here. All we have to ward off a shiverfest are woollies, hot-water bags and sigris. But much as I gripe, and much as I love waking up to a beautiful sunny morning, I love winter. Up here in these mountains especially, winter means days of perfect blue skies and warm bright sunshine, and cozy early nights. Now that's magic.
Picture credit: Nell Khiangte
