Monday, 14 January 2013

Come and play?

Wouldn't it be nice if we could put on some big red woollen coats with gold buttons, and lift a tartan hood around our pink, freezy ears, and step outside into the snowstorm and see what kind of pleasures the afternoon had to offer? Wouldn't you like that?

Perhaps we could walk to the canal in our fur lined shiny boots and stomp, stomp, stomp over kerbs and keystones. Maybe the canal would be frozen. Maybe this little road for boats and tours discovered the New Year and said, time to reinvent myself, I'm so tired of rushing and running, forever, in the same direction. We could wind our tricolour scarves tighter around our necks and fumble down the grassy bank and let our feet be tentative beavers stepping out onto this brand new surface of the world.

We could build snowmen! Or, rather, we could construct a delicious and hideous snow reality like the Calvin and Hobbes cartoons you used to read, sitting on the toilet for hours, swinging your chubby little calves back and forth, thinking about dinosaurs. What about a snowshark? What about crying villagers disfigured by snowplague? Ooh, I know, how about we build a snowcliff with snow lemmings and spend the day flinging them off into a sad, suicidal snowhole?

Maybe you're not interested in that. It's ok! I have other plans! Why don't we anaesthetise our chilly fingers with a proud silver flask of coffee and brandy? Let's get buzzy and brilliant in that cobbled square in Rixdorf where the homeless men fill their shopping trolleys with empty bottles, adding Pfand to make a fund for a new and thrilling bottle of booze. Remember when we sat up late there that Christmas Eve and the Turkish shopkeepers brought us tins of peanuts for dinner, and we drank Krauter liquor, and I thought, this is the moment that we start to build a whole new set of histories and customs. This is our home now and we have plenty of time.

Then, there is always the Eis Stadium. I am sure that we will slip and stumble, but who could care less if it means we get to swoop like jerky, flightless birds trying to run across a tundra? I will hold your palm and we can be ducks on land, if you want it. I can hold your fingers and keep them oh so warm.

If you are unsure of the snow, if you worry about freezing and you think that there are better things to do with a day than let our toes turn to icicles, we don't even have to go outside. We could sit in the sauna if you preferred, where the LED lights warp from red to green to blue, where the lavender sends us to sleep, where a burly man in a tiny towel will whip us into sweaty and glorious shape.

Or, we don't even need to leave the house. I have, here, this duck feather duvet which you would do well to tuck yourself beneath. I will warm my hands first with coffee cups and fingerless gloves, and we can spend this stunning, snowglobe day in a burrow of our own choosing. Come, tuck up and keep cosy and press your soft skin on mine. I like it here with you. I didn't know we could ever get so snug.

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