More About Socks

Turning over the debris in my sock drawer the other day I was forced to confront a couple of unpleasantness’s (cor that word has a lot of s’s in it).
First I have an unseemly number of odd socks. Thirteen in fact. I mean its taking the mick.
Then I realised that there was a second problem. Quite a few of the partnerless hopefuls were not even mine. Foreign and I have to say distinctly female socks have invaded my drawer.
I quizzed She Of The Townhouse about the situation but she denied all knowledge whatsoever. Always a dangerous position for a woman to adopt as it immediately arouses suspicion.
Assuming though, just for a moment, that she has a case, and that the intruders are not belonging to she, then I am forced to look elsewhere.
I am forced to cast my mind back to all the other ladies that have…..I am going to have to put it delicately of course….used the Hallett’s Mountain bedroom. And now that I think about it this isn’t the first time I have had to tick them off about this kind of thing.
Ladies please….take more care…avoid the embarrassment that is bound to arise.
Oh and wash your own bloomin socks!

The Last Post

The thaw has at last set in here on Hallett’s Mountain. The snow is by no means gone, up against the mountain walls some of the drifts that surpassed the mountain boundary walls are still well over a metre deep, but the road up here is clear and has been for a couple of days now.
The post box at the end of the track is clear as well. This a little odd as the snow was still on the ground about it. Also on the bins. And the penny drops.
For the first time since the 18th of December the postman has been.
Thank you all for the lovely cards.

Dog Tired

This fine morning Asbo and I decided to follow the ridge line.
Do you know what? I am not sure that I am giving the dog too little credit here. I remember him looking back at me and giving the Paddington Bear stare when in fact it was I that took the decision to follow the ridge. He was rather committed by the fact that I held him to little choice on the end of a lead.
Anyway we followed the ridge and eventually stepped out on to the top up above Maen Penddu. The East wind bit in to both of us. Well it bit the dog more than me of course. I had dressed sensibly in the full awareness if the bitter cold. He, being less informed, wore just his old black coat.
The snow was up to my boot tops, and in hidden hollows where the wind had deposited more up to my knees. It was fun to push through the crust of hard snow on the top and through the deep powder below. Fun unless you were a dog scraping your …umm … parts.. through the deep freeze.
We stopped up by Maen Amor to share a coffee. Well again I may exaggerate the sharing aspect here. Asbo in fact gave me an almost baleful glare as I took of a glove and poured myself a coffee. He was right of course, I should have kept my glove on. My fingers were frozen despite the warmth of the drink. Goodness only knows how his paws must have felt.
Fortified, we turned the corner towards the path down. Particles of hard snow ripped from the surface stung our eyes. Thank goodness I had my hat and scarf pulled tight to my glasses. I was easily able to follow the hound and keep my eye on him as he tried to dodge from side to side.
An hour or so later I sat down to a superb breakfast. Eggs Benedict setting me up for the rest of the day. The dog, a complete lightweight in every regard, has flaked out in front of the fire.
I wonder if he needs worming……

On The Road To Nowhere

So then, realising that perhaps it wasn’t my last breath, I felt that discretion was the better part of valour, and retired to Hallett’s Mountain for the day instead of going to work.
Since Before Christmas there has been snow on the ground here. I may have drawn your attention to it already…. Anyway the thing is that this morning things got too cold.
Sometime during the night the small streamlet that runs beside the road froze up really badly. It managed to block itself in the ditch sufficiently to overflow and then run on down the road surface. By the time I got there in the comedy Landrover there was a sheet of ice covering the steepest part of the hill and some way up. In addition the salt bins had run out.
I contemplated this little rocket ride from the top end and as I paused for a moment I felt the whole shebang drifting sideways towards the larger deeper stream on the far side. Inch by inch. Parts of my anatomy pouted a bit as I selected reverse.
I called the council about the salt bins but it seems they were having problems with other things. They should have deliveries on the weekend.

The Big Top

Up before the world, Asbo and I tackled the North Face of Craig Celynin.
The thaw that had started yesterday afternoon was stopped as the temperature plummeted under last nights clear sky. As we walked over the fields towards the mountain gate footsteps crunched. Mine penetrating the crust and erupting soft powder. Asbo skittering around ungainly in a way left behind when he was a mere cautionary warning. Puzzled by the lack of friction he reverted to giant puppy.
Higher and higher we climbed and the snow grew deeper. Swinging round the shoulder of Tal-y-fan we turned up the final slope and I noticed that the waning moon was hanging full above the opposite slope of Maen Amor.
I am not sure what the dog made of it. I paused for a moment and thanked the Great Moo Moo for his blessing.
Later, much later, we came back down the mountain because I have to go to work in the morning.