A Short Walk in the Snow

"I am just going outside and may be some time," I said to no one in particular, as I left our shelter in search of beef broth.

The snow had intensified, making it hard to see, but in the distance I could just make out the Cult Collective, rising out of the drifts. I knew there was a shop nearby that sold broth, but would I make it?

I did, barely, and sensibly managed to detour out of the wind to a pub, where I drank a pint and watched the snow.

Later on we ate a standing rib with roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding. It was delicious.

Stay warm,

LSP

Ice Station Zebra

I got up this morning and it was snowing, but not the Christmas Carol, Tiny Tim, figgy pudding kind of snow. This was harsher, with a subzero wind driving particles of the white stuff, like tiny pieces of icy grit.

Sensible creatures, like bears, go to sleep in warm caves when the weather gets like this but, out of respect for Captain Scott, I went for a walkabout.

This took me to a new building that advertised itself as the Cult Collective. I immediately summed this up as a crew of marketeers, out to make a buck by cult status brand building. Customers, complain the Cult, "usually buy things because they have a need, not a burning desire." The Cult exists to reverse that and bank some tin.

As I parsed this in terms of idolatry, mammon and Keynesian, debt-driven growth, a woman paid her parking fee in the driving snow. "God it's cold!" she said. 

"It is a bit chilly," I replied.

"Just obscene."

I don't know if the woman was part of the Cult.

Be careful out there,

LSP