TheBanyanTree: Staying home

[John Bailey]

Thursday April 29, 2004

STAYING HOME

The wind turned round and blew bitter and cold in from the North Sea, 
bringing a series of stinging, wintry rain squalls with it and dropping the 
temperature a full ten degrees from where it was forty-eight hours ago. Brrr!

So what did we do? Why, we took ourselves off to an aquatic centre situated 
in a vast aircraft hangar on the edge of a former RAF WWII airfield, 
complete with old runways, derelict billets and nissen huts, and a lonely, 
dilapidated control station, that's what we did. Anyone who has served in 
the RAF and has been stationed on an airfield in Lincolnshire will know 
just what that means. Cold. As I stood outside the store, battered by the 
merciless, penetrating wind, I was reminded of days when I'd wear two pairs 
of pyjamas under my uniform in a vain attempt to keep warm.

I tell ya. The things we do for our fishes. We were seeking a bottle of 
filter starter, some flake food, and a small fibreglass pebble pool to sit 
by the side of the pond, receive the outflow from the filter and drain it 
back into the pond as a tiny rill, all splashy and delightful to the ear 
and to the eye. We got everything on that list, and then turned our 
attention to the second list. Marginal plants.

There was a splendid display, with hundreds of species all in an outdoor 
poly-tunnel kind of affair, running the whole length of the hangar. The 
sides and ends are netted but otherwise open to the elements. And it acted 
like a wind tunnel, dropping the temperature at least another ten degrees 
due to windchill.

"I'm sorry," I said. "This is too cold for me. Can we come back on a nicer 
day?"

"I think we'd better."

"Are we done, then?"

"Yup."

"Good. Let's finish up and go over to the big garden centre for a hot drink 
and something to nibble. I'm cold, and I'm hungry."

The mug of hot steaming coffee was a life saver, and the nibble, which 
turned out to be a plated hot lunch, was enough to bring the glow back to 
my cheeks and the cheer back to my heart.

"Now can we go home?" I asked, all hope and eagerness once more.

"Oh, yes. Just as soon as we've picked up a couple of bits of rock and some 
pebbles."

"You really know how to give a chap a good time, don't you?"

So we endured another bleak experience, picking over rocks to find just the 
right ones to go with the side pool, and pebbles of the precise colour and 
size to place in it, all outside in the howling wind.

We settled up, loaded the car, and motored off into the teeth of the gale, 
snug and warm in the little blue Ford.

"Is it often this cold in Lincolnshire?" asked Graham, blowing on his 
fingers to bring the life back to them.

"It can get a lot colder than this."

"Right. When we go big town shopping next time I think we should stock up 
on thermals. Not just for you but for me, too."

"Good idea. But I have one that's almost as good."

"What's that, then?"

"Next time it's like this, let's stay home."


--

John Bailey   Lincolnshire, England

journal of a writing man:
<http://www.oldgreypoet.com>