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At first a coppery light bathed the roadside hedgerows. Turning to deep gold and then burnished gold. I took to the coarsely granular snow of the verge on the approach of every vehicle. Better that, than have them veer away suddenly on potentially icy roads. Frozen slush lingered on at the junction. As I turned into the lanes. Fortunately my clumping, winter boots maintained traction on this occasion.
Some twenty five, flighty Redwings crisscrossed the road ahead of me. As they retreated under protest. Blackbirds played their familiar role as drama queens. With their overblown warnings of impending doom. Rather than yet another sighting. Of the same old, harmless and solitary, septuagenarian pedestrian. Of today and yesterday and all the days before that.
The bright, vapour trails of at least twenty Jinping Plague shuttles decorated the eastern sky. As I shielded my eyes unsuccessfully against the glaring sun. Turquoise splodges lingered on in my vision for my pedantic foolishness. Who else, but myself, cares exactly how many trails despoil the view?
A Red kite came over and flinched awkwardly at my unexpected presence. Plodding across his vast, snow covered, but otherwise empty, breakfast table cloth. It wheeled away towards the north in defiantly slow circles. As I watched through my binoculars. The biting wind at the saddle sought every gap in my defenses. The GripGrab gloves too poor for comfort. Not quite bad enough for aching fingers. Best to avoid photography though. Recovering the lost warmth is a painful process!
Another walk completed against stiff competition. I could have stayed home in the less than luke warmth of my attic, dormer window. Typed more nonsense into my clumsy and uncaring keyboard. There are fools enough polishing their online paranoia. Without my adding my thick dollop of textual indignation. They will not be swayed by my weak words. Not when they can strive to outdo like-minded others. With their pathetic, self-reinforcing, positive-feedback, complete and utter drivel.
They see themselves as revolutionaries for freedom of speech. Freedom of choice. Yet, imagine if their completely wacko tripe gained hold. They would be queuing to hang all the non-believers. Nothing has really changed since the caves first became male-dominated latrines. With an entry fee to the power drunken, muscle for brains, vicious sociopath hogging the fire.
Talking of dark thoughts: The sun has already been obscured by cloud. It is only 10.30. I shall expect adequate compensation from the seaweed fondlers masquerading as forecasters! They should have stuck to reading the bløødy entrails!
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