People here tried to convince me I should come to the office Christmas party by telling me that there'll be 650 people there. I politely didn't point out that meant 630 reasons not to go, since I don't like large gatherings. Or other people much for that matter :)
Turmoil The Scottish moors were no place to spend a winter's evening: snow covered the grass and heather and the glistening, untouched whiteness only emphasized how lost Karel was. What mountains might have helped him navigate were hidden by the dark night and the moon was a bare sliver of itself, providing only enough light to see by because it reflected so well off the snow. Thankfully the wind had died down shortly after sunset so now his face felt less numb and wind-burned. His feet were utterly numb, and his legs burned at mid-calf -- below that he suspected that he'd lost all feeling as well. He was unhappily wondering how you knew when frostbite was happening when a flicker of light caught his attention. He squinted, and then found it: darting red and yellow lights low down -- surely not a fire out here? The snow was still deep and he waded through it, kicking up clumps and clouds of snow-dust like some demented beachcomber getting perverse revenge on the sands that had never yielded treasure. Ten minutes of effort and he was sweating, out of breath, and still his feet were blocks of unfeeling ice. He came to a halt as he rounded an outcropping and discovered an actual camp-fire of wood, surrounded by large flat stones and surmounted by an iron frame supporting a cauldron. All this sat in the entrance of a narrow, shallow cave; the heated air that suddenly surrounded him was so comforting he wanted to cry. "'Oosit?" said a voice, and he realised that on the other side of the fire, sitting down and partly hidden by the cauldron, was an elderly woman. Her hair was the grey of a ancient, well-used dishcloth and her eyes were the colour of the dish-water after that cloth had been used. She was wearing a frilled black dress, something like a wedding-gown crossed with mourning dress, and had a fur stole around her neck that looked as though it had had mange before it died. "Whassat?" came a voice from within the cave. "Bugger!" came a third voice from above him, and he looked up. There was another elderly woman, this one nearly skeletal and wearing what might have been a Christmas Angel costume thirty years ago. Wispy strands of blonde hair were attached to her liver-spotted skull, and she appeared to be drooling. As well as clinging to the ceiling like a geriatric spiderman. "I'm Karel," he said. "I'm freezing and I'd very much appreciate being able to sit by your fire." The woman behind the fire stood up and her hand groped for support. Karel realised that she was blind. "You may sit a while," she said imperiously, and Karel wondered how she planned to stop him if she'd said no. "But you must accept a telling of your fortune." "Sure," said Karel, slightly puzzled. Surely you normally had to pay for that? There was an odd cackle and a blur of movement and suddenly three aged ladies were gathered around the cauldron, poking at things it and peering at him as though he was a toad that had decided to start speaking English. "Fire burn and cauldron boil," screeched one of them. "This young man will meet turmoil. He must go where'er wind blows, with just two fingers and seventeen toes." "What?" said Karel. He wanted to sit down. "We see frostbite in your future," said one of the old ladies. "Must frostbite, much suffering. But do not worry, for you will grow more toes to compensate!" "How is that compensation?" asked Karel.
20 people is pretty close to my upper limit I think. After that I start to try to find ways to be stood closest to the exit and then excuses why I can hear better on the other side of the door. Well, maybe the carpark. You know what, just skype me into the meeting instead :) Sorry, christmas party. No, really, skype will work perfectly for me.
3 comments:
People here tried to convince me I should come to the office Christmas party by telling me that there'll be 650 people there. I politely didn't point out that meant 630 reasons not to go, since I don't like large gatherings. Or other people much for that matter :)
Turmoil
The Scottish moors were no place to spend a winter's evening: snow covered the grass and heather and the glistening, untouched whiteness only emphasized how lost Karel was. What mountains might have helped him navigate were hidden by the dark night and the moon was a bare sliver of itself, providing only enough light to see by because it reflected so well off the snow. Thankfully the wind had died down shortly after sunset so now his face felt less numb and wind-burned. His feet were utterly numb, and his legs burned at mid-calf -- below that he suspected that he'd lost all feeling as well. He was unhappily wondering how you knew when frostbite was happening when a flicker of light caught his attention. He squinted, and then found it: darting red and yellow lights low down -- surely not a fire out here?
The snow was still deep and he waded through it, kicking up clumps and clouds of snow-dust like some demented beachcomber getting perverse revenge on the sands that had never yielded treasure. Ten minutes of effort and he was sweating, out of breath, and still his feet were blocks of unfeeling ice. He came to a halt as he rounded an outcropping and discovered an actual camp-fire of wood, surrounded by large flat stones and surmounted by an iron frame supporting a cauldron. All this sat in the entrance of a narrow, shallow cave; the heated air that suddenly surrounded him was so comforting he wanted to cry.
"'Oosit?" said a voice, and he realised that on the other side of the fire, sitting down and partly hidden by the cauldron, was an elderly woman. Her hair was the grey of a ancient, well-used dishcloth and her eyes were the colour of the dish-water after that cloth had been used. She was wearing a frilled black dress, something like a wedding-gown crossed with mourning dress, and had a fur stole around her neck that looked as though it had had mange before it died.
"Whassat?" came a voice from within the cave.
"Bugger!" came a third voice from above him, and he looked up. There was another elderly woman, this one nearly skeletal and wearing what might have been a Christmas Angel costume thirty years ago. Wispy strands of blonde hair were attached to her liver-spotted skull, and she appeared to be drooling. As well as clinging to the ceiling like a geriatric spiderman.
"I'm Karel," he said. "I'm freezing and I'd very much appreciate being able to sit by your fire."
The woman behind the fire stood up and her hand groped for support. Karel realised that she was blind.
"You may sit a while," she said imperiously, and Karel wondered how she planned to stop him if she'd said no. "But you must accept a telling of your fortune."
"Sure," said Karel, slightly puzzled. Surely you normally had to pay for that?
There was an odd cackle and a blur of movement and suddenly three aged ladies were gathered around the cauldron, poking at things it and peering at him as though he was a toad that had decided to start speaking English.
"Fire burn and cauldron boil," screeched one of them. "This young man will meet turmoil. He must go where'er wind blows, with just two fingers and seventeen toes."
"What?" said Karel. He wanted to sit down.
"We see frostbite in your future," said one of the old ladies. "Must frostbite, much suffering. But do not worry, for you will grow more toes to compensate!"
"How is that compensation?" asked Karel.
Greg - so 20 people is your upper limit then?
Your description of Karel's arrival at the cave is fantastic. Obviously the geriatric spiderman line is my favorite.
And I have to agree with him at the end there - that seems like poor compensation to me too!
20 people is pretty close to my upper limit I think. After that I start to try to find ways to be stood closest to the exit and then excuses why I can hear better on the other side of the door. Well, maybe the carpark. You know what, just skype me into the meeting instead :) Sorry, christmas party. No, really, skype will work perfectly for me.
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