Tuesday, March 22, 2005

My Gloves are off...

I left my black, leather gloves on the bus last week.

I loved those gloves. They were one of the leaving presents my English colleagues who I worked with in Melbourne gave me right before I left.

I have managed to not lose them for five consecutive English winters. Quite an achievement for me really as I am most definitely one for losing things.

So there you go. They are gone. I did call the bus company’s lost and found department but no body returned my call. I can not imagine I will see them again. In some ways that makes me sad as they did mean something. They were a gift from friends who knew how bitter an English winter can be and wanted to make sure my hands were never out in that kind of cold.

Although I would be lying if I did not say at this point that I am a little relieved. Why? I hear you ask. Well, I have come to really despise the greyness that signifies so much of winter in England. And after walking through five of them the prospect of a sixth is not one that warms my heart. Yes there are great things about winter and I have written of them here in detail. The weeks leading up to Christmas, the lights, the markets and the anticipation of snow. Crisp, cold, bright winter mornings where everything is covered is a fine frost. There is nothing like it and these are the memories I hope to recapture when I am old and grey sitting on a sunny porch back in Australia.

So if I believed in signs I guess I would want to believe that losing my black, leather gloves last week was the universe saying to me, in its secret language, that I will not be needing them again.

Listening to: Feeler, Pete Murray (over and over and over again)
Reading: Voyager, Diana Gabaldon