the antithesis of cabin fever

...whatever that may be, is what I have.

For the last few days I have solely existed in my living room. Which, due to the size of its windows, is like a glass shoe-box. I have seen all the snow fall on the other side of the Firth. Occasionally little wisps would flutter and circle outside on this side. Apart from the view, however, and access to the internet, I have felt pretty much cut off from the rest of the world.

The news wouldn't shut-up about all the snow in the UK. It was as if England had to scramble all its jets as soon as the first flake landed in London. So why didn't I get any? I live further bloody North than most of population. Perhaps I'm too old to play in the snow by myself anyway.

My sense of isolation was strengthened by the fact I have only been reading books about North Korean Gulags and listening to the surreal Ivor Cutler.

But I'm happy in my bubble, where I don't have to think past the next kind of sandwich I'll have.