After the cold winter, I was just getting into the swing of spring. I took the woollen blankets off the bed, washed them and packed them away, along with the woolly jumpers.
That night, a cold front came through and it's been Siberian since, with a biting wind. I came to NSC to get away from all that. Walking to work along the jocko bridges in January used to nearly kill what remained of my spirit, though at the same time it must have been character building. Everything balances up.
So one minute we were enjoying spring, the season when an old man's fancy turns to thoughts of whatever. Then suddenly it's all chapped lips and split finger-ends again. And freezing in bed, but too cold to get up and find a blanket. My organs don't know if they're coming or going.
Meanwhile, Albert is keeping warm by training for the annual 17 mile walk, only three weeks away. He'll probably manage the full distance, but his dog won't.
It used to be that his dog could walk all day without flagging. It's an Aussie Collie, same as mine, bred to chase sheep all day in the outback. A few years back, Cap'n Kev took the dog for an overnight expedition into the bush, walking all day through waist-high grass and scrub. While Kev could step over the undergrowth, the dog had to leap each time. It kept going for a magnificent 6 hours, before it finally lay down and refused to move. But nowadays it's an old dame, and Albert says he's going to have to drop it off half-way through the big walk.