On the Beat

It is cold; I don’t think the temperature has risen above freezing since Saturday, like much of the country. Yesterday, I was caught in a snow shower in Princes St – large flakes swirling around the merry-go-round, ferris wheel and slide.

Sunday night and Monday, wrapped up in bed, my feet were freezing, so cold they kept me awake.

So yesterday, I went shopping for a new duvet.

And last night, my feet were very comfortable indeed.

* * *

It feels like we will be in for a cold winter; and I was thinking about previous winters. When I first moved back to Edinburgh, fourteen years ago, the Water of Leith froze over at Christmas: the falls in Dean Village were solid ice, a waterfall of icicles. It was very beautiful – but cold.

And in January 1982, I was in Oxford, which was for one night the coldest place in the UK. The temperature fell to -17°C. There was ice on the inside of the windows of my bedroom. Going outside to go to the pub, my hair froze – my breath rising from my mouth condensed on my hair, and froze it so it cracked when my fingers rubbed it. My hair was longer then.

I think I’d like another cold winter, for a change.

From the terrace at Tate Modern, last week.

There was a bus strike in Edinburgh today – part of the public-sector unions’ day of action.

To avoid travel-hassle, I anticipated working from home – having a rather lazy day catching up on reading, a bit of writing, and no work email.

Instead, a meeting was arranged in London which I had to go to, rather changing my plans.

Going back to the airport, I was caught in a heavy hail storm. The hail was blown nearly horizontal, and when it finally fell, it bounced off the pavement; in the three minutes it took to walk from our office in London to Bank, my legs – unprotected by umbrella and coat – were soaked.

I sat in the front of the DLR train, listening to Quadraphenia – it is rather a superb album.

There was a really stunning complete rainbow, stretching an arch over the derelict Millenium Mills building by Silvertown. The colours were bright against the stormy black sky. At the end of the rainbow was a huge white liner that always seems to be in the docks there.

The Tate and Lyle factory opposite London City Airport looked like a giant Mondrian construction.

And I didn’t have my camera with me. Doh!