Suddenly, almost overnight, winter's oppression is lifted off our shoulders. I never thought I'd be so happy to see the fascist-yellow of the daffodils. March was cold and bleak, but now it's gone.
It's still grey and dull, and far from warm. But the edge is there no more; the cold does not bite your face, it is now tame and harmless. People walking pass you look up, and sometimes smile. And it is no longer painful to wash dishes.
Living without hot water in such cold weather is no treat. Especially at nights when the temperatures drop below zero. The kettle became our new best friend: heating water to wash my face, wash dishes. I've lived in a squat without electricity before, and one without flushing toilet. But living without hot water I find the hardest. It feels 19th century workers-housing: only we have electricity for light and heating.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment