13-1-18

A day with ice, hardly possible to stay on my feet, but I made it to the bridge over the Bucklerburn. And halted. It seemed impassable - my quick route up from the Terminus- and I wasn't sure how to continue. A fellow passenger from the bus I'd got off  joined me at the edge of the bridge.

'If you can't go round go through' and off he went, sliding elegantly over the troll guarded bridge and I thought about witches not being capable of crossing flowing water. So, I dared a tentative step and almost fell. I took me twenty minutes to cross the ice bound bridge clinging to  the railings and finding melted spots as I tip-toed tracked myself as safely as I could to the other side. Then after the bridge there is a slope up to the back of the estate.  My house was right at the top of the slope so after much slipping, sliding I made it  up the ice seemed to try and catch me with every step. Proudly I was glad I didn't fall on the tricksy white willing enough break my bones and undoubtedly murder me if I could.

The house was cold when I got home. The young cat had found a space on a towel on the base of the bath, while the older mewled and watched with an icy anger, mewled again and I put on the central heating.