Misty Moisty Mornings

Ian Hutson

This morning was forecast to be froggy but turned out to be merely misty. Still frozen of course, but hardly a London pea-souper.

I noticed in the “news” (such as it is in these veracity-challenged times) that Amsterdam’s Mayor, Miss Primandproper, is endeavouring to remove the city’s alternative-smokeries and the “red light” district – presumably with the intention of then signing the place over to Disney with a “suitable for all ages (up to 10 years, only – no adults)” tagline. I decided this morning as a sign of protest to briefly host my own “red light” and smokery district.

A bijou and short-lived “red light district” on the Middlewich Branch canal.

Business in my little Red Light District was slow.

Well, non-existent.

Yes. Mr Stove-Flue is belching forth old pope-fumes like a hard-working steam-engine. This morning’s smoke went straight up to form clouds; the air ‘ereabouts was without movement of any kind.

I wandered along to see if I could get some better, more menacing images of Cholmondeston Lock in the mist, but it didn’t look much different to when seen in daytime.

Cholmondeston Lock, Middlewich Branch.

The horses had changed fields since last I saw them. Our conversation was still rather one-sided.

That’s the trouble with frist and mog. We “see” it as something that restricts vision a few yards away from us, when in fact the moisture is consistent and all about, stealing any and all definition from the camera lens.

Yonder canal remains frozen, with added “eek” thrown up by yesterday’s hire boat ploughing through, enjoying their hired hull blacking.

The view from the side-hatch:

Why did evolution not come up with miniature polar bears, seals and penguins?

There would have been plenty for them to sit on.

Father Nature hasn’t half missed a few tricks along the way.

If I were in charge things would be different.

In place of (ugly) spiders I’d have miniature teddybears that set up home in the corners of the boat.

Bees wouldn’t go about armed to the teeth, belying their purportedly peaceful intentions.

I’m not in charge though, not by a long chalk.

We’re promised a little bit of sunshinery today. I wonder if that will be as solid a promise as Chamberlain’s ‘peace for our time’?

Talking of time, tis time to feed Mr Stove once more. He’s on an all-he-can-eat buffet.

Chin-chin, chaps.

Ian H.

10 Comments

  1. If I Were In Charge, there would be far fewer of us. I have a list of those who would not make the cut. But if science fiction has taught me anything, its that my utopian population would be dystopian because bad things and bad people are necessary. I continue to suspect that might not be true though.

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    1. The lady does appear to be at least several paces to the left of her sanity. I have heard reports of both closing them altogether and also of “just” preventing (somehow) any non-Amsterdamians (?!) from visiting them. Both very silly ideas, doubtless inspired by some Puritan ideology and notion of moral righteousness. The end of this process is to ban the formation of muddle puddles into which playful adults wearing Wellington boots may jump just for the hell of it. Smiling be damned, apparently…

      An interwebnet search will bring up several flavours of the scheme. The world is indeed skipping merrily towards some very dreary version of dribbling insanity. ;-(

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  3. I’ve just been down to Eastbourne for food and exercise. (We have a wonderful wet fish shop there.) sadly, all the world and his wife were there emptying their pooches. Not only on the sea front, but on the normally empty hilly things erroneously called Downs.
    Car parks full up, so exercise went by the board.
    However, we left here, 6 miles inland, in shiver me timbers weather and deep cloud. May and Grismerable. Frog on the way there, but Mr Sun chose to shine on the White Cliffs of Eastbourne. (Dover doesn’t have copyright on the epithet ‘white cliffs’. At least I hope not or I’m gonna get sued!) lovely and bright. Then home again sans exercise into greyness.
    People ignoring sense and sensibility (sued again by Jane Austin from the beyond) and going out cycling with others not in their households, or not knowing how far 2 metres is and passing within 1 metre. I despair.
    But I like the idea of tiny teddy bears in the corners of the room. And for disarming bees and wasps. On.y the queen bee needs that thing to lay eggs. The others don’t need it at all,

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    1. It has been many years since I last gallumphed over the Downs which, as you say, ought more properly to be called the Ups. Upsan Downs? The Irregularities. Lovely place – then, at least, I have no recent experience to draw on. Besides, one ought really only to draw on paper (all else is domestic vandalism and takes an age to clean off).

      In the matter of bees and wasps – I am grateful that at least (thus far) evolution has kept them the size that they are. Can you imagine cow-sized wasps flying about… I am grateful for these small Murphys. 😉

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  4. I think the government has been reading your blog and has detected signs of faint disapproval of the whole pack and boiling of them.
    So, to ‘learn’ you, they have permitted angling to continue.

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    1. I am amazed – although not in the least surprised – that “angling” has been classed as “exercise”! There’s nothing to raise the pulse or respiratory rate in dangling a worm on the end of some hairy string in a bit of canal water! We are, I think, unwilling participants in the midst of some experiment to plumb the depths of collective insanity…

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  5. A bit of frog is good to see unless you have a lung defect when you could croak but re. sunshine, it’s great from behind the solid air called glass but most deceptive with its false promises of warmth

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    1. The coldth at the moment seems to be up and down the scale quite independently of the mercury – I suspect that Hooman perception and the percentage of dampth in the air may have a lot to do with this. The sunshine has been with us for all of the day – wonderful, I’d almost forgotten what “bright” and “blue sky” was!

      In the fatter of mogs – I mean the matter of fogs – I can’t remember seeing (or rather not seeing while in) a good, thick fog for many years. My memory department tells me that they used to be quite relatively frequent – certainly much more frequent – events. I wonder if and why?

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