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I am becoming quite the whizz at Cascadia. Okay, Mirinda tried to denigrate my win tonight by suggesting that winning by one point was somehow not as good as winning by ten, but I refused to rise to the bait. A win is a win, regardless of the distance between first and second, I declared. Jason just tried to remain a bit Zen in second place.
It might be obvious that Mirinda and Jason had previously gone to the ICA for some godis, which was very naughty. I mean it’s not like it was a Friday. We’d already had our Sunday roast, and that’s a pretty big clue right there.
I’d given them the choice of pork or chicken and the pig won the votes. I started preparing Delia’s pork with green butter while they were walking with the girls.
The day was pretty good all round. No snow, no rain and the temperature not below zero at all. This was very helpful given I had to walk to the ICA first thing and, after the melting of the snow yesterday, the wet could easily have become the icy. As it was, there was only one patch of ice the whole way.
As I reached the woods, The Running Man, switching from Nemesis to Saviour, warned me about the patch of footpath at the gate to the cemetery. It was like a frozen river, he said and to be careful. I thanked him profusely, and continued my slow and careful progress. And he was 100% correct. It was as if a small stream had been snap frozen across the footpath.
Fortunately, the road was perfectly fine, so a quick detour onto the tarmac was all that was required to ensure my remaining upright. Obviously, on the return leg, I had to skirt the grass in order to go and sit with Inge but, even so, pre-warned was pre-armed, as they say and I remained horizontal.
Things were not all rosy, however. Sadly, my fears appear to be correct. Something is definitely going on at the corner of the path into the woods. Big bags of, I assume, stones have appeared, ready for some sort of undesirable dispersal for, I’m assuming, an MTB track expansion.
However, while I may be losing in the real world, I am pretty successful in the imaginary ecological perfection of Cascadia.
