Winter Slusherland

Started for work in the dark; reached work in the dark. Parked in the dark; on a ticket space... last traffic related expense of the year - I hope. Funnily enough, last year I managed a speeding fine while driving through the deserted early morning villages in the Cotswolds on Boxing day. You know the ones, where the speed limit changes fifteen times on a four mile stretch of road and you could reconstruct the Forth Rail Bridge with all the metal used for the warning signs for heaven only knows what. So this year it was parking instead; another fine way to spend the Christmas cheque from Stu's mum that just cleared into the bank account. Next year I should really go for something a little heftier; a spell of festive vandalism or good old fashioned armed robbery. Lets get a real fine.

Bizarrely I am in such an optimistic and jolly mood despite this dampener. The way I see it, it is all just numbers on paper anyway; just movin' them around a little. Did write a rather dark Haiku on the way to work though; but it was dark and dingy:

The snow has broken

All the Christmas tree branches

And melted to slush.

I guess its not the time to announce that I miss the snow, but they were good times tramping to work and back in wellies in the mysterious snowlight whistling to myself and looking forward to the re-warming back home. Must make it up to Lappland one of these years, but absolutely not on a mini tour taking in the reindeer farm and Santa's elves; needs to be the real deal.

A whole evening stretches out before me courtesy of the piddling hours I am working in dayjobworld this week so I shall make the most of it in valuable research and painting work. Could sure get used to this in an ideal world where money was a dim and distant memory of number shuffling.