Winter wonderland

It’s white out there. The trees are heavy with snow, and it is around 15 degrees below. My dad’s cats are reluctant in general – they are not partial to either cold or young children.

It is also very quiet. If nobody is moving around in the house, all you can hear is the slight whooshing of the radiators. Nothing else. Apart from the hum of fans in my laptop, of course.

It is a slight shock to the system to be somewhere so very quiet. Life is shaped by simple routines here, centered around food times (courtesy of my dad’s wife) and whatever projects my dad has going. A world apart from my normal life, with all its logistics and complications, excitement and stimulating challenges.

If I lived like this permanently I suspect I would either go mad, or become compulsively creative. The latter doesn’t sound too bad, but the problem is of course that living like this also involves a lot of material upkeep. Life in the city is simple in that way. Not to mention fun.

Ultimately, I am an urbanite. I like the outdoors, but I don’t love it with a passion. Or perhaps I do, but I feel it does very well without me (or any other people, for that matter) stumbling around in it. I cannot see why every square inch on this planet should want people in it. There are countless other species that desperately need habitat undisturbed by people, and who occupy it with more grace and discretion than people generally manage.

No, stack’em high. Make urban living smart, efficient, clean and vibrant. And count me in.

If I can get some granddad-action going, maybe I will have a bit of time to focus on work. That would be good use of time. Plenty of work to do.

I know I am supposed to go ‘aaaah’, settle into an armchair and ponder on the beauty of the simple life, but inside me thoughts and feelings keep on rolling, bouncing and sparking off like they usually do.

On a perfectly trivial note: Flying is not fun. The dry air on board wreaks havoc on my lungs and my nose, and it takes around 24 hours to recover. The lack of space is awkward, and together with the waiting times that invariably are too short to put to good use and too long to endure gracefully, makes for particularly irritating time waste. Scandinavian Airlines are good, and the staff very pleasant – a far cry from the abomination that is RyanAir. But it is still something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

A little blissful window of peace, listening to Chopin and typing this. I suspect it will not last long. It is odd how playing music slipped off my agenda for so long. Not having a piano was obviously a crucial part of that, and pianos are so non-portable. Music has formed and informed my thinking and understanding of the world so profoundly. Not to mention my interaction with it.

I would so love to have a piano at hand to immerse myself in. Or perhaps another instrument that I could play with. The exchanges on that musical ‘island’ are so seductive. I miss it.

It has been wonderful to play, and I can’t wait until I get the next chance.


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