I’m thoroughly and heartily sick of winter! I’m sick of the wind chill, the wind burn, the chapped lips, the dry red hands and cheeks, the runny nose, the numb extremities, the tiny cracks in my fingers, the trudging through snow and sludge, the climbing over snow banks, the slipping and sliding on ice, the feeble attempts to fight off hypothermia while waiting in frigid Markham for a TTC bus, the struggle to yank myself out of my nice warm bed in the mornings, the depression, the constant whining...Oh, wait. Those last two are from me...Well, I don’t care! I’m sick of them too!
Yes, I know. Compared to other parts of Canada, Toronto has it easy. I mean, we haven’t had wind chills of -46 C for one thing. Still, there are days (between November and March) when I have to wonder what the %#@! my grandparents were thinking coming here from Britain. Yeah, okay, my paternal grandparents didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter, as my grandma was four and my grandpa was a baby. However, my maternal grandparents were in their twenties when they left Oldham. And, yes, I realize it was the Depression and they were looking for better opportunities elsewhere, but did they not think to themselves: ‘Oh, Canada’s that rather big place under the Arctic, isn’t it? Sounds frightfully cold, what?’ And my maternal grandparents never spoke that way in their entire lives, but that’s so not the point. The point is that there are other Commonwealth countries, warmer Commonwealth countries, my maternal grandparents could have emigrated to, like Australia. I’ve been receiving an education in Australian slang and songs from tazzles, so that’s something, right? Of course, if my maternal grandparents had emigrated to Australia, I’d probably be bitching about the heat right now instead of the cold. Actually, come to think of it, if my maternal grandparents had emigrated to Australia, I never would have been born. Even if my parents had somehow managed to rendez-vous in Sydney or Melbourne, the timing and circumstances would be off. I’ve seen and read enough sci-fi over the years to know how these things work.
Oh, well. Hopefully, there’s only another 6 to 8 weeks of winter to go. Yay.