Showing posts from November, 2005

A blustery day in Chicago

There was an intermittent whomping of the bushes outside my window through out the night. The wind was biting cold and furious, never letting up. It was so comforting to be sitting in the cozy room, and under the blankets, watching the wind play havoc outside.

I casually glanced at the clock. It was 6.30 am. It was a Wednesday, and I was in no particular hurry to get up (read get out of the oh-so-warm bed). And then there were temptations to stay in; there was a book on the bedside table, which also held my laptop with the internet connection. The TV remote was within reach and the curtains on the window were drawn. If that was not incentive enough, the menu lay open to the breakfast page. I could simply call room service. There I was, lying in bed, isolated, yet connected in so many ways.
I chose the book (But naturally!) The escape it offers is incomparable and this one was by a particularly favourite author. Dog Stories by James Herriot. The atypical country vet painting the myriad c…