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Lost in the snow
Jan. 18th, 2013 10:14 pmFriday evening already, and it seems no time since Monday morning: five days floating to the ground like snowflakes, soft and indistinct and hummocky...
Yes, well. It was cold when we went out on Monday morning, cold enough for me to wear my coat rather than my waterproof, which was a mistake, because it's the waterproof that has the hood, and the snow started to fall seriously while we were out, so I returned home wearing an extra coat of snow.
I'd woken with a stiff neck, which I blame on leaning in to the computer (the cataract in my right eye is developing, I think, and my sight is getting worse): odd it should be bad on Monday, since I'd spent less time than usual at the computer on Sunday, but life is full of oddities. I treated it with painkillers and wrapping it up in scarves. By Wednesday it was no better - in fact it was worse - so I took it to the doctor who gave me a Latin name for it (torticolis, which ought to be a kind of pasta) and prescribed hot baths and additioal painkillers. The treatment is successful - I still have difficulty twisting my head, but it's easier and less painful than it was. Interesting to learn how much I turn my head, and when (the most painful thing I was doing was brushing my hair).
Bitterly cold yesterday morning, but we ventured out to the Farmers' Market: the forecast for today was more snow, and we thought if we were going to be snowed in, we'd better stock up. Several of the regular stalls weren't there, and I don't blame them.
In the evening we went to the Gala theatre to see Pinero's The Magistrate relayed live from the National Theatre. It was a perfectly enjoyable but somehow muted evening. This was the first time I'd been to one of these semi-live performances: it has its advantages - a great close-up view of the stage, for one - but I had no sense of the immediacy of live theatre. The Magistrate, being a farce, may have suffered more from this than other plays. On the other hand, The Guardian was underwhelmed by the production. The introductory matter emphasised the modernity of the play, whose central joke is that a woman has knocked five years off her age. Really? I was more struck by the way the crisis is first precipitated, and then resolved, by the licensing laws - oh, yes, licensing hours, I remember those...
I've been anticipating snow all day, and we've had sunshine. But it's snowing now.
Yes, well. It was cold when we went out on Monday morning, cold enough for me to wear my coat rather than my waterproof, which was a mistake, because it's the waterproof that has the hood, and the snow started to fall seriously while we were out, so I returned home wearing an extra coat of snow.
I'd woken with a stiff neck, which I blame on leaning in to the computer (the cataract in my right eye is developing, I think, and my sight is getting worse): odd it should be bad on Monday, since I'd spent less time than usual at the computer on Sunday, but life is full of oddities. I treated it with painkillers and wrapping it up in scarves. By Wednesday it was no better - in fact it was worse - so I took it to the doctor who gave me a Latin name for it (torticolis, which ought to be a kind of pasta) and prescribed hot baths and additioal painkillers. The treatment is successful - I still have difficulty twisting my head, but it's easier and less painful than it was. Interesting to learn how much I turn my head, and when (the most painful thing I was doing was brushing my hair).
Bitterly cold yesterday morning, but we ventured out to the Farmers' Market: the forecast for today was more snow, and we thought if we were going to be snowed in, we'd better stock up. Several of the regular stalls weren't there, and I don't blame them.
In the evening we went to the Gala theatre to see Pinero's The Magistrate relayed live from the National Theatre. It was a perfectly enjoyable but somehow muted evening. This was the first time I'd been to one of these semi-live performances: it has its advantages - a great close-up view of the stage, for one - but I had no sense of the immediacy of live theatre. The Magistrate, being a farce, may have suffered more from this than other plays. On the other hand, The Guardian was underwhelmed by the production. The introductory matter emphasised the modernity of the play, whose central joke is that a woman has knocked five years off her age. Really? I was more struck by the way the crisis is first precipitated, and then resolved, by the licensing laws - oh, yes, licensing hours, I remember those...
I've been anticipating snow all day, and we've had sunshine. But it's snowing now.
