Ragnarök. That's a very Norse sounding word.
It's never nice in Norse-land at this time of year. It gets dark early - i.e. round about lunchtime - and stays that way till April. It's all very well being able to play golf at midnight in June, but that's just the Yin side of Vitamin D deficiency.
So as we crash into darkness (any Southern hemisphere readers will have to bear with me at this point) we know that annual prefiguring of Armageddon. Loki breaks free from his prison, along with his companions Knocki, Flocki, Moomin and Rikki-tikki-tavi, the Mongoose of the Apocalypse. The Bunnies of Night hop across the dark lawn. Fenris the Wolf swallows the sun, while the Great Gibbon does likewise to the moon. As Valhalla empties, gods and men fight across the face of the earth - a battle none can win, except Skrymir the giant and possibly Wagner the bearded wally off the X-factor.
Small children are mysteriously transfigured into characters with pumpkin heads and the face of George Osborne - rushing from Social Services department to Regional Development Agency and terrifying the inmates. Gimli Gloin's Son sharpens his axe, while Zephyrus, the god of slight breezes, gives us a very insignificant wind-chill factor.
And we face the void - no flowers, no leaves, no Pimms, no sunshine, no swallows, no cricket - at least until next month, when the Ashes can be seen on Sky Sports 1.
I think I'd better have a lie down.
I quite like darkness and winter. It creates opportunities to become renew relationships with family members, who you normally see fleetingly as they rush through the house on their way from or to somewhere, or are blocking up the bathroom for hours at a time. Sorry, I meant the kids.
ReplyDeleteYou can become needed again as taxi-driver, bank and target for any venom they might have.
You can dress up with four layers of clothing (or so you say) which excuses your rather bulky figure.
Your Cats change from those lazy furry things, ensconced on every seating surface and become night owls and hunters, bringing home presents, which invariably they have forgotten to kill - and you end up chasing around the house accompanied by mewing cats, very pleased with themselves.
You have the pleasure of central heating, with banging pipes, noisy or leaking radiators and boilers which never obey the thermostat and time clock and start with a loud bang at 5am (which reminds me, the last service in 2002, must be due again).
Your coal effect gas fire splutters multi-coloured flames a little like the windows in York Minster I saw on the telly yesterday.
And of course, there is Advent and Christmas - all the good stuff, accompanied by a commercial frenzy, Christmas card lists (who will we offend this year?) and buying of presents, Christmas fare and taking out a mortgage extension to pay for it.
Roll on summer.