28December1995

London: 28.12.1995
My dear folks,

For the first time in London, the air felt really very cold when I left the office at 0830 & headed down towards the car-park 100 yards away. It had the biting-burning quality to it that I associate with deep minus temps. For the first time, the Rocket was disinclined to start & grumped into life. The seat felt as though it had been carved out of a block of ice. Curiously I brought up the outside temp on the car’s computer. It vacillated between -4* and -5*. That’s the coldest I can recall in this part of the world & I was quite impressed. I felt as though we had been blooded! The Scots, who were enduring temps as low as -22* & roof-high snow drifts, would not have been impressed. In Britain’s humpty-dumpty houses, -22* is unthinkable. The poor bastards must be freezing their butts off. Several people have fallen through ice while trying to rescue dogs & are at death’s door.

I have often thought as I cycled along in the warmth of my elderly mitts or double-knitted gloves how many benefits our various trips to Canada & the generosity of our hosts there have brought. The same thought occurs today. I have just woken up & clad myself in the comfort of a thick blue zip-up affair - something between a jersey & a parka - that is among the said benefits. It has a certain snuggable, huggable quality to it that adds to its attractions. In spite of the ton of gear we carried to Germany for the Witbankers - who are no doubt gratefully clad in it - ample remains.

Jones inherited a coat from Cathy while she was over there, a handsome blue job that will give her excellent service. Jones has an inheriting gene. She buys virtually no clothes but she still seems to acquire them. She is distressed over the gradual disintegration of her fur - a blue fox I gave her in the early 80s. The actual skin has become a bit cardboardy. It tears easily & is difficult to mend. I fear it’s had its time but have suggested she speaks to a furrier.

I have been spending money again. The battery in my laptop was playing silly buggers & was clearly giving up the ghost. Since the laptop keeps me amused during frequent flights, bus journeys & train trips, this was serious & required immediate attention. I managed to find a mail order firm that was prepared to let me go around to its warehouse & collect a new one - a more expensive model that is meant to have a longer life. While I there, I took to paging through their catalogue, like a fool. I came home with a new printer & the accompanying battery pack as well. It’s a Canon BJ30, half the size of the one I took to SA, Mum, and quite a lot cleverer & quicker. I am pleased with it & trying not to think of what the credit card bill is going to look like next month.

I am also in the process of transferring from the BBC Networking Club to another Service Provider as the Club is closing down. This means that I shall shortly obtain another e-mail address as well as a whole lot of software that I shall have to reconfigure & get used to - what a pain. It’s like losing an identity. Such is life. I brought home a report I was reading yesterday on the explosion of the Internet.

In America alone, 14,000 people a day hooked up in the 3rd quarter of the year to find themselves in a parallel universe nearly as confusing as the one they already occupied. The number of on-line users is estimated to have jumped this year from 21 to 30 million. Jones is philosophical about these things. “It keeps him happy” is what she tells people. And I imagine that she adds to herself “and quiet and out of mischief”.

Blessings upon you.