What I wanted to say is the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but the truth is, it’s probably just me.
It’s the time of the year, and it’s the only time we can go away, and as we live in the southern hemisphere, it seems logical to go north.
OK, that’s probably not as rational as it sounded in my head a few seconds ago, because where we’re going it’s about minus 16 degrees.
Where on earth could it be that cold, other than the north pole? Lake Louise. Canada. Somewhere up in the mountains.
Why are we going there?
Because it’s there. Because we haven’t been there. And, no doubt after we’ve been there in the dead of winter, we won’t want to go back? Who knows.
Oh, yes, there’s a but…
I need some good background for a story I’m writing, and if you’re going to do the winter thing, or the white Christmas thing, when your Christmases are usually 40 degrees Celcius in the shade, then Canada is the place to do it.
Aside from the fact, we might run into Murdoch in Toronto, and, definitely, the Maple Leafs, yes, I can see myself saying ‘go leafs go’, whilst sipping on a large glass of Molten beer.
Then, there’s New York for a week. Perhaps everything will be shut down, but maybe not. Hopefully, there will be snow in Central Park, or, if not, the squirrels, and if not them, perhaps a movie star or two walking their dog.
One can always hope.