I have been, sort of, moderating a conversation on an old post I made back in 2015. The post concerns the Turnbull family of Whitby. While the comments started off being between readers and me, they have now started being between two people with me, a mere silent approver of their posts. It’s interesting how social media can start with one to many and wind up being another one to another one with an audience of many.
Apart from reading comments about the Turnbull family, I spent most of the day watching the snow fall. Heavy and light, it kept it up until almost everything was buried in white.
By 8pm, we had The Professor outside, shovel in hand, clearing the two paths for us.
He actually managed to go for a cross country ski today. He gave Mirinda some sage advice. When walking in the forest, if you come across ski tracks, try to avoid walking on them because subsequent skiers use them for a smoother ride.
Not that Mirinda went to the forest today. It was hard enough going taking the Duck Walk early on. On her return, the girls were covered in big snow bobbles on them. They were both uncomfortable and didn’t mind me washing them off.
The Professor was very surprised when I told him we have snow in Australia. He worked in Queensland once for a while and experienced the heat and humidity. I told him all about Thredbo and our excellent ski slopes in the Snowy Mountains.
I told him that Mt Kosciusko is the highest mountain in Australia but, for shame, I didn’t know the height. (I just looked it up. It’s 2,228 metres above sea level.) Given he seems to know everything about Sweden, I felt somewhat remiss not knowing such an important fact about my own country.
I stood in the doorway, chatting, because of my ‘extra toe’ as Mirinda calls it.
It’s actually the result of the gout. And it has been rubbed because of my constant wearing of boots. A blister had formed and been rubbed raw. I’ve been applying band aids but felt it needed some air and freedom.
Of course, wearing nothing on one foot meant it was cold, so I adapted an old holey sock to become a sort of fingerless glove for my right foot. An extra-toe-less sock, if you will.
Apologies for the disgusting photo.
