Under a changing sky

14 – 17 January 2015

When I woke up on Wednesday morning the headache was still there, which was rather disappointing.  The problem is the pills that stop my stomach producing acid so the damaged lining can heal also stop my food being properly absorbed and digested. Amongst other things, this leads to a magnesium deficit, which, in turn, leads to headaches.

Sadly I didn’t discover all this in time to buy some magnesium supplements so I’m going to have to put up with it until the weekend. In the meantime I’m eating as much magnesium rich food as I can stomach. Bananas, low fat dairy and seeds are manageable and don’t make me feel sick so I’m making them the basis of my diet at the moment. On the up side, dark chocolate is also high in magnesium although I don’t actually have bars of chocolate in the house. Strangely I have been craving all of the above, especially the chocolatee. Whether this is because my body knows what it needs or just me being a chocoholic remains to be seen.

Outside the window it was dark and cloudy and, when I left home, it was trying to rain, light spots in the air. On another day I’d have probably caught the bus, especially as I still had a nagging headache, but, with the road works on the Big Bridge, I knew this would be frustrating. As I walked down to the crossing by the station I overtook several buses and, in the third of a mile walk, not one came past me again. In fact I think they had barely moved by the time I’d waited for the lights and crossed the road.

Thankfully the rain stayed at the sporadic drops stage for the whole walk. The clouds it was falling from were pink tinged and, in front of me, one monster cloud looked suspiciously like it may have held snow. According to the weatherman we were on the edge of the area that might expect snow but my feeling was it was too cold. My feeling was right and not a single flake fell. Instead, from late afternoon, we had torrential rain and howling wind. Personally I think I’d have preferred the snow.

That rain and wind continued through the night, dashing against my bedroom window as if someone was throwing stones. It felt like the house was shaking as gusts howled around and it whistled down the chimney. Out in the darkness beyond my Thursday morning window I could hear it still squalling and falling as I ate my banana breakfast and drank my cocoa. Images of fallen trees and branch strewn paths swirled around my head but, as the light slowly came, the rain died down and the garden was still there as far as I could tell.

What I’d have liked to do was cuddle up on the sofa with a duvet wrapped around me but, of course, I had to go to work. The rain held off for the walk but it was icy cold and the traffic was horrendous. In fact the cars were at a complete standstill on the Main Road and I crossed between them rather than walk down to the lights at the Station as I have had to since the road works began.

There was debris everywhere, mostly just twigs, leaves and beech nuts blown from the trees. When I got to the footpath at Monks Walk a small stream was running down to the street and the path was a flooded mud bath with a few largish branches strewn about. Maybe the crossing at the Station would have been a better plan after all. My boots were rather muddy by the time I got to the other side and I had to stop to wash off what I could in the final puddle.

The sky was full of icy looking clouds but there was a definite hint of blue as I made my way to the river. I crossed Cobden Bridge accompanied by a freezing blast from the water which made me wonder what it must be like for the poor houseboat dwellers living there. In the summer I quite envy them their waterborne lives but, at this time of year, the wind coming off the water makes me glad of my warm little house.

On the jetty by the Millennium Flats the swans were gathered. Maybe it’s more sheltered there than by the rocks on the boardwalk where they usually congregate. The cob and pen have done very well this year to keep all seven cygnets alive. They were marching purposefully up the jetty slope but, as usual I had no food for them. When I looked back from the walkway they were all making their way back to the water, swans are full of cupboard love.

It was one of those days where I started lots of things but finished very few. Frustrations piled up as  I dealt with one interruption after another and my own work got further and further behind. The highlight of the day turned out to be a lost property call. A lady had left her Chanel handbag on the bus and, with it, her car and house keys. The things she was most worried about though, were some photographs of her children. To be honest I didn’t hold out much hope. Usually, the more expensive the item the less chance there is of it being found and a Chanel bag is pretty high on the list of covetable things. Of course, I didn’t tell the lady that, I just rang control to see if it had been handed in.

The helpfull controller put a call out to the bus in question and I listened as he waited for the reply. Neither of us could believe it when the driver came back to say he had the bag safe and sound. The lady was in tears of relief when I told her she could collect it from the depot. She had a lucky escape and I hope she takes better care of that bag in future.

Friday couldn’t have been more different weather wise, the sky was a flat grey, the wind had died down and somehow it didn’t feel quite as cold.  The swans were gone when I got to the Millennium Flats, probably back to the rocks on the other side of the boardwalk. As I came around the corner I could see a pall of smoke hanging over the city and I wondered if there was a fire somewhere. There was nothing about it on the radio when I got to work though and nothing on the Internet when I Googled it during my break so maybe someone was just having a very big bonfire.

It turned out to be another low achieving day, at least in terms of my proper work. This is not to say I wasn’t busy, I managed to sort out some colour coding on the rota, a new phone list, a serious passenger incident and a serial complainer who has been trolling the Twitter feed. When Jess had to go to Portsmouth to sort out a problem there I was left in charge so had to field lots of questions, proof reads and manager escalation calls. There was also a call from the Regional Manager with a list of things to do for her and some loose ends to tie up for a staff member who is on jury service, not to mention a lost property fest on the phones and three hours of social media. No wonder I didn’t even touch my own work. At seven it was a relief to lock up the office and leave for the long, dark walk home.

My weather app told me there might be snow over the weekend and, when I looked out of the window on Saturday morning, I thought it had come overnight. It turned out to be just a thick frost. A little part of me was disappointed. We don’t get much snow here on the south coast and I was almost looking forward to getting my Yak Trax out of my bag. Then again, a dusting of snow would mean Even more traffic chaos and a billion calls about late buses.

As the sun came up I was treated to a wonderful display of pink and blue from the layers of cloud. This is all  very well when seen from the comfort of my warm house but, before long I had to wrap up and face to cold. Despite the burn of cold on my fingers I couldn’t resist stopping to capture the spiky coat  of ice on my gate post like white hair, or the fringe of crystals on the leaves of the choisya against the wall.

It was soon obvious that my short walk to work was going to be a photo heavy affair. As I crossed the Main Road, virtually empty of cars so early on a Saturday morning, swathes of huge, hazy, peachy pink clouds seemed to dwarf the city, making me feel small and insignificant. The pavements were topped by a layer of crunchy frost as I made my way towards Monks Walk and the gardens I passed were filled with crystallised flowers. Unbelievably, the pink blossom was still there on the tree as I passed although I was sure, if I touched one, it would shatter like glass. I couldn’t help wishing I was off on a long walk to explore this sparkling, crunchy world properly.

As I approached the footpath at Monks Walk I wondered if the massive puddle  would still be there. It was but, thankfully, a little smaller and, with the puddle and mud frozen solid, it was easy enough to cross. Some of the smaller puddles were like works of abstract art, swirls of mud and ice, bubbles and criss crossed ice fingers.

A lone gull was circling the river as I crossed Cobden Bridge and the golden sky reflected in the gently rippled water. Down on the wooden walkways between the moored boats a woman in a red coat slowly picked her way along. Rather her than me I thought as I walked on and, when I looked back, she’d gone. Maybe she lives on one of the houseboats.

By the time I reached the river again at the Millennium Flats the cloud seemed to be thickening and a few light drops of rain were falling. For a moment I thought it was snow and looked at the sleeve of my jacket to check but it was definitely rain. At the top of the steps I almost slipped over. The light rain was freezing on contact with the frosty pavement making walking treacherous. The last stretch of my walk was painfully slow with a lot of slipping as the pavements turned quickly to a sheet of ice. There was no chance to put on my much underused Yak Trax but, more by luck than judgement, I made it in one piece.