Cold conditions continue. We woke to another frost this morning with the roads extremely icy. First thing this morning on our way to work, ABM drove the Alfa and I drove CD's (aka Son no. 3) Toyota Corona, in tandem (or is that in a convoy? Dunno if two vehicles qualify as a convoy ... ) to the mechanic's for the Toyota to get what was needed fixed for its warrant of fitness. We were forced to travel at a snail's pace along white roads and up slippery slopes - Friday's daylong comments of Dunedin having 'hills like glass' was echoing in my ears. At one point we had to pull over in order for ABM to scrape ice off the windscreen. However, the sense of achievement once the mission was completed, was worth it. Because yay! Tomorrow I will have my car back and CD's car will be road-worthy again.
During my twelve-minute walk to work from where ABM dropped me off, I couldn't help but realise that first of all there is frost, and then there is frostier frost. I would've welcomed a balaclava. For me, what qualifies as the best of both worlds is to park the car about twenty minutes away from work and walk from there. I plan to keep up this daily exercise and experience of the elements. You really know you're alive when you feel frost on your eyebrows.
We had arranged a place for ABM to pick me up from after work, but I arrived a little early so decided to pop into the Green Acorn cafe and get a coffee-to-go in an attempt to keep warm while standing waiting. (Even though it was only 4.30, it was already beginning to freeze again.) Once inside and about to order, I realised I didn't have my purse with me. Feeling sheepish I explained and was about to scuttle out the door again when the guy said he'd trust me to bring the money in tomorrow, and cheerfully made me a coffee. What a nice guy. He had an accent (I thought it was Scottish or Irish - sometimes I can't tell which is which. I know one lilts up and the other down, but I usually forget which way about it is.)
Turns out he was from Liverpool anyway. He said that Liverpudlians feel more akin to the celts than to the cockneys, so he wasn't offended when I asked if he was from Scotland. He was telling me that his two flatmates had gone to a party in a field (of course he meant 'paddock', but I forgave him the cultural booboo - especially as I actually prefer the word field to paddock - just as I prefer the word pail to bucket) at Middlemarch over the weekend. It was minus 11 degrees, but they loved it. "But they would, they're hippies," he said, "and I'm not." Apparantly they'd stayed up all night and then watched the sunrise come up out of a valley of mist and frost as the dj hired for the party played on. Awesome, I'd imagine.
But all the same, I think I'm with the Liverpudlian non-hippie; I too prefer to be asleep at that hour, wrapped up warm in my bed, even if an awesome winter sunrise is occurring while I snooze. I can only take experiencing the elements so far - I do have my limits. Somehow I think this week I've done pretty well. (Refer here to insert for pic of yesterday's polar plunge)
I'm prepared now to quit while I'm ahead.