I am being haunted by Van Morrison and Led Zeppelin. In the last three days, I have been ’skipping the light fandango’ in the cinema, in front of the tv and to my brother’s iTunes. I have bought at least four stairways to heaven.
Is it just me or does the snow make people melancholy, burrowing themselves in comfy cinema seats or worn sofas, absentmindedly munching popcorn and floating away on the soaring bars of ‘and so it was that later…’ ? ‘Tis the season to be merry? Nay, ’tis the season to be cocooning with a whole box of Cadbury Cream Eggs. ‘Tis also the season to wrap those classic songs around you like a soothing winter blanket, it seems. Or that is what the radio stations seem to think, at least. I agree.
Staring out at the yellow-grey air I frankly don’t want to do anything other than skipping the light fandango and turning cartwheels across the floor. I want to have Van Morrison making me just a tad bit sad and wistful, and I want to buy a stairway to heaven when I walk outside in the crisp snow, with ink-black sky above me and puffs of breath swirling around me. I also want to sink to the ground amidst the downy white covering and listen to the stillness of a late cold night while staring up at the streetlights.
Even though I want all of this, you will still find me inside, cradling my coffee infused with fabulous Orkney whisky, staring up at the snow flakes falling down until they seem to be falling up. And then I get melancholy. And then all I want is to watch her face turn a whiter shade of pale.
