Thursday, 17 December 2009

Winter draws on.

Winter has come to the West Midlands; the first flakes of the season's snow fall invisibly through the late afternoon's darkness, glitter for a moment in the yellowy-orange glow of the street lights and shiver down finally onto the lawns, the roofs of parked cars and the piled-up, wind-blown remains of Autumn's long-fallen leaves.

Do they fall on Hubert, hunkered in a field somewhere, one boggling eyeball frozen to end of a scope?

Nope; no-sirree; no they don't - for Hubert is inside: crouched in the weak field of warmth that's grudgingly given by the ancient storage heaters in his near-Arctic flat; long-john clad, duvet-wrapped, chain-smoking roll-ups and dreaming of summer...

2 comments:

  1. The Suburban Bushwacker17 December 2009 22:29

    Well if that's what it takes to get you blogging again puff away

    ReplyDelete
  2. <span>I'm sitting here with a nicotine patch on, having the first fag of the morning, and considering my next post. Hopefully I'll get to it before this particular form of drug combination therapy renders me unconscious... 
     </span>

    ReplyDelete