The North Wind Doth Blow….

by

It’s cold, but then you know that.
I found a pair of leather gloves with faux fur cuffs in the basket next to the boiler. They had been given to me for Christmas years ago.
I slipped them on over my freezing fingers, and set off on my 10.000 step trek to the village to buy a cucumber, a bottle of red wine, and a big portobello mushroom.
Loaded them into my back pack, humped it on my back then walked quickly. I stopped and stood in the sun, I took my fingers out of the finger bits and curled my hands together to try and re-heat them with my own body warmth, inside the leather gloves. It didn’t work. I walked even quicker, into the wind. My fingers just managed to press the button to phone home.
‘Please would you mind, if you are not too busy, could you, if you can bare it, collect me from the slip road near the farm.’
He turned up in the dawter’s car – I haven’t got one any more remember, so to the harshly critical Poppy PeeWee, I would say I HAVEN’T FULLY GOTTEN OVER IT. SO THERE.
I slid into the passenger seat, unable to even blow my nose as my hands had atrophied in the 4 degree wind chill.
The kitchen felt toasty, but only for three minutes, I was frozen to the marrow.
I fried the mushroom with loads of black pepper, placed it on a bed of wilted spinach and slopped on two perfectly poached eggs, made all the more tasty with a cafetier of fresh coffee, heated milk and a sprinkling of sugar.
I ate at the kitchen table with one hot water bottle under my feet, one behind my back, and one held close to my freezing thighs.
The ‘oosbind lit the stove and I’m intending to sit quietly and read myself back to warmth.
On Thursday we are attending a funeral in Covent Garden. A man who died far too soon. He had bellyache, went to the doctor and seven weeks later he was dead having been eaten alive by Cancer. It’s not fair, only the good die young.
Tomorrow I’m driving to Brighton to attend the Sussex Food and Drinks awards.
There will be noise, and booze, and loads of food. There will be cheers and tears and lots of beer. There will be towers of dessert, cups of coffee and small bite sized petit fours.Then I will drive home, hopefully the right way, last year the wind was blowing, the rain lashing. I turned right instead of left out of the Amex Statium,
and ended up driving into deepest Sussex, me howling like the wind.
I am prepared now for tomorrow’s excursion. It’s only taken a dozen years for me to learn how to use the sat-nav on my phone. I will wear thermal underwear to defy the cold, and I will bemoan the fact that my lovely little red car is on the scrap heap whilst I’m driving my dawter’s car with it’s tinted windows, low profile tyres, and a sound system that can be heard in Tulse Hill.
The bath is a very real option now. Epsom salts, Paul Reizin’s book, face pack and hot, hot, hot, hot water. You know the drill. But first I have to run up and down the stairs for 96 steps to make up the ten thousand.
God the daily life of a numerical neurotic.
Stay warm

5 thoughts on “The North Wind Doth Blow….”

  1. Yes……..Jeni Barnett has written!!
    At last!!
    Poppy Pee Wee wee, sometimes seems cool……. can’t quite make out her comments……. weird!
    Jeni, please help us……. an old lady, stopped in her determined, worn tracks, waited for us and told us we were not aloud down the avenue!!
    It was like an ambush…….. I was walking behind with Leon, and she managed to go for layla and the wifey! Who were walking infront.
    Me and the boy caught up and I wasn’t quite sure what she was going on about!
    I quickly got the gist and said, there ain’t no signs!!
    She quickly and very proudly said, there aren’t any signs saying you can!
    Man, I was angry……….. can’t believe I’ve moved from London Town and bumped into an old, posh lady, who said we can’t walk where we wish to!
    It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I had been reading of this walk for a number of years and that we come from catford and just want a nice life!!
    One, we’ve worked immensely hard for!!
    Is she right?
    I don’t think her words will stop layla and Leon from running down that avenue, even if she might be right!!
    Can’t believe she upset me so……… silly posh, privileged old lady!
    I imagine she never had the delight of watching children run wildly and free, down an avenue of trees before!
    Certainly ones that started life in a concrete jungle, a situation she would sure to melt in!!
    We come in love and peace and a better life for out kiddies!
    Come to south london….. I’m sure she wouldn’t be so accepting of that environment!
    I hope they can hear the tunes in Tulse hill……..mate, get your wheels soon!!
    Thanks so much Jeni Barnett!
    The Borowski’s!
    Xxxx

  2. …. and sorry, anyways……. we ventured home and blared out some Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield……. and in doing so, I’m sure we annoyed some more locals……. but I know they heard us back in south london!!
    The boys are calling me back for a drink…… my best mates, Andrew and Dave, from school!
    They still can’t believe we moved out ‘ere…….. nor can I!
    Big love Jeni Barnett
    The Borowski’s take two!

  3. Just saw an old clip of you having to follow Bernard Manning and Kenneth Williams on tvam. Do you mind, can I ask, how did it feel? I know now we sort of clear our throats and mutter that times were different, but were they? Really? Were we that witless?

  4. I don’t mean you were witless! That reads all arsey-darsey, what I meant was the tone of the interview with Mr Williams and Mr Manning. I know Brendan O’Carroll has used that joke in a different setting to great effect, but it seems, on hearing it there, in a clip from what seems like another lifetime, jarring somehow.

  5. Hi Jeni,
    I suppose your fingers have frozen hence no blogs!!
    I’m suppose up your way it’s even colder than here in London. I hope you are doing well.
    Keep warm and snug!
    xxx

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