Looking out of my bedroom window onto an icy tidal river is not something I do in Cambridge. I'm doing it here. It's good. Goldeneye, buffleheads on the denim-blue water; a bald eagle sitting like a lump of clay high in a bare oak; a great northern diver doing its submarine-profile cruise along down to the sea. Snow and snow and snow. Damn, it's been a while since I saw a white Christmas. I'm stuffed with pancakes and American bacon, and my legs still ache from a day hawking grey squirrels in deep snow. I love this place, and I love my friends here. Soul-stoking goodness. And there are cookies too. And the promise of a day fishing for smelt out on the ice. I shall wear my new hunting trousers: heavyweight grey wool with a fine, Rupert-Bear red check line. I tested them out on the frozen marsh the other day flying Pete's gyr x peregrine at ducks. Lay down on the ice, and luxuriated in not feeling even a twinge of cold. I am going to die of overheating when I wear them in England, but boy, I need a new pair of hunting trousers. I've killed four pairs out with the gos. These ones will last forever! Mwa ha ha!
Happy Christmas to everyone! Happy happy Christmas! x
4 comments:
Happy, happy Christmas Pluvi! I miss you madly. Kill things for me xxxx
It sounds like you're in your element. Happy Christmas, P.
So now you look like a hunter 'from away' (ask for a translation) - should be easy to spot.
Go bcak to Beans and get a pair of their upland pants, briar proof and not too hot in the damp old fens.
Damn, I should have got those upland pants. They look perfect. My wool ones were a kind of homage to two generations of hunters in the family I'm staying with -- they wear 'em. But there's nothing I can do about looking like I'm from away. At least I look like I'm from England, not Mass., though...heheh.
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