This was the scene yesterday. Cold mist hanging around and in the afternoon freezing all and sundry, and my bony knees were part of that sundry. It was so cold last night that it woke me up just after midnight and forced me to dress like 'Nanook of the North' and switch on all the heating I could find (one candle and a packet of 'Victory V's.'). I went online and explored the webs showing how to build igloos and how to catch and skin penguins just in case. I had been watching the snow bound North American pictures the other day and wondered how people can live in such conditions year after year! A two inch layer of snow can bring us to a halt, imagine it being two feet! Yet some folks live in areas where such snowfall is considered an easy winter! I assure Canadians I will not emigrate there, your moose are safe. During the Second World War Stalin brought the Siberian troops across from the Chinese border where they had been watching the Japanese threat. These folk were used to temperatures of minus 40, and they would lie in the snow all day opposite the Germans, and attack at night in temperatures of minus 8. They considered this warm! Sorry, that is not a life for me, whether attacking Germans or not. I want a Greek island, lots of sun, an nice sea view, gentle waves lapping against the shore and nearby cliffs, a long cool drink and sunshine all the day long. Of course a woman to do the ironing and bring the long cool drink would also be welcome, if she can cook.
I am reading through this book about one of the three remaining Great War servicemen. Henry Allingham, 'Kitchener's Last Volunteer.' This is a very good read. Not a deep tale of enlistment and the happenings found in other books of this type but a series of reminiscences from a man born in 1896! The personality of the man comes across and I find it difficult not to like him. Enlisting in 1915 in the Royal Navy Air Service he serviced and sometimes flew as an observer over the North Sea, where he was a distant part of the Battle of Jutland, and over places like Ypres (Wipers to the troops) and saw Flanders great battles. He is the last remaining serviceman who served when the Royal Flying Corps merged with the RNAS to become the Royal Air Force. Active all his life he was playing golf until he was 93 and is shown cycling on his hundredth birthday! On Remembrance Sunday last year (November 11th) he attempted to leave his wheelchair to place a wreath at the Cenotaph. He was unable, but took many minutes making the attempt. Eventually he was persuaded to let others do this for him, but he held the parade up for a good while in the attempt. What a man! He must be 113 by my calculation this year and still going. He may go on a lot longer yet!
