Hot and Cold

How lovely it was to spent time in a warm and cosy lodge gazing out on to a wintry landscape. It was very cold outside, definitely hat, scarf and gloves needed even for a quick nip out to feed the birds. Coming back inside to a welcome hot drink was a perfect reward and I would sip it while watching for the birds to notice the replenished feeders. Being prepared for any amount of snow, ice or blizzard, we were stocked up with extra food and provisions, but coastal Dumfries and Galloway has its own micro climate and despite the minus degrees temperature most of the time, we had sunshine and blue skies every day and the local roads remained passable. We saw a fine layer of snow at Galloway Forest Park on one of our adventures. Of course, all good things come to an end and after a couple of restful weeks we were driving home for Christmas – go on, sing – through patches of freezing fog on the M6 with the snowy Cumbrian hills looking majestic in the clear bits. Family and festivities beckoned in Blackpool.

I was nine years old when my family’s second move to Blackpool became our permanent one. Dad’s wished for ‘pub on the prom’ was our home. My sister was still in a cot and we shared a big bedroom right at the front with an amazing sea view. The place was just a pub with three separate bars, but was originally a residential hotel. There were many nooks and crannies to explore but what fascinated me was the wash-basin in our room. It was fixed to the wall in the corner with a frame fastened to the floor on a square of lino. The frame provided a small towel rail. The taps were labelled ‘Hot’ and ‘Cold’. Mum and Dad’s room had one and so did another bedroom that was right next to the bathroom. At the time I thought that was hilarious. Our kitchen was miles away on another corridor. This wing had more bedrooms with wash-basins, which accommodated grandparents on their visits. The two floors above were out of bounds to me, but I had dared to have a peep and decided that whatever was up the curtained stairs was far too scary. Fast forward a few years to teenage and some of us did go off exploring. Very creepy.

A recent adventure was ‘Two Go Off in a Caravan’. This is our retirement asset to enable us to take off where we want and when we want to, within reason, while we can. We got it at the beginning of November, intending to have a couple of short trips in it before packing it away for the winter and before we disappeared to Scotland. In the end we only managed one weekend away, but it was good fun and a learning curve. On the second day, we, well ok, not me, figured out ‘hot and cold running water’ which was bliss to wash up without boiling the kettle. I expect we will have forgotten what we’ve learnt by the time spring comes, though we’ve made notes.

I found this from a Scottish poet, Alan Jackson,

The Three

In the depth of winter
In the dark of night
There was only one house,
Only one light.

I walked down the path,
I knocked on the door.
I do not think
I’d been there before.

Music and light,
Three smiling faces.
I was by the fire
In seven paces.

Oh what a blossom
Oh what a feel!
They showed me a seat;
I joined in their meal.

After we’d eaten
We cleared out the things;
‘One of us plays,
One of us sings,

One of us dances.’
‘Then I will too,’
I laughed and looked,
‘I’ll dance with you.’

The stars in the window,
The birds in the trees,
The fire in the chimney,
We were all these.

The sun in the morning,
The moon on its way,
Roses and silver,
Nothing was gray.

A rich deep blue,
A scarlet bloom,
Like living liquids,
Filled the room.

Then we sat down
And talked till dawn.
Our eyes were shining.
We could not yawn.

‘Where were you going?’
‘Coming to you.’
‘But you didn’t know.’
‘Of course, I knew.

I know what is
And what is not.
I know the cold,
I know the hot

I know what quickens,
I know what kills;
I know what drains;
I know what fills

When I couldn’t see
I followed my nose.
When I couldn’t hear
I followed my toes.’

‘Then many a bump
And many a smack
I expect you got
On such a track.’

‘I certainly did.
I’m covered in bruises.’
‘You’re not, you know.
Who wins, loses.

You are human
And we’re pleased
That you found us,
Though we teased,

But you must go
You cannot stay;
Soon it will be
Another day.

And you are called
Back to your place:
Great is the work
Of the human race.

Now, don’t be sad.
You won’t forget.
And we are there
In dry and wet;

In hot and cold,
Dull and shine,
In wither and bloom’
You’ll see our sign.

Whenever you look
With light in your eyes
You’ll almost see,
And hear our cries.’

The house was fading,
The fire was gone;
It was the earth
I was standing on.

‘Goodbye goodbye,
True hearts can’t fail!
Goodbye, goodbye,
Green is the trail!’

It was very cold
And rosy blue
I heard the cock
A doodle do.

I saw some smoke
And birds in trees
I heard their laughter
In the breeze.

I wasn’t sad
For I understood
My friends were alive
In water and wood.

A wonderful fire
Flamed through my heart.
I’d walking to do;
I made a start.

Alan Jackson, b 1938

Thanks for reading, Pam x