Oh, don't get me wrong, the winter is coming all right, and if you want to listen to that bunch of crystal ball gazers at the world famous meteorological office, it's going to be a cold one. Mind, last winter we had a couple of days around here where it registered 15 degrees below zero. It doesn't come much colder than that around here - not since the last ice age anyway. So, it's going to be a cold one. In fact, they say that it's about to start in earnest next week, but we will see.
However, cold is cold, discontent is another matter. What have I got to be discontented about? Not a great lot really.
As far as I am aware, and provided that nothing outrageously stupid happens, I will be serving my last Christmas, New Year and winter in Lizzie Windsor's thoughtful and welcoming hotels for the mentally inept. The good ould SS is putting together a viable, robust and realistic release plan for the Parole Board and, as far as I am aware, there are no voices being raised in opposition. Everyone I talk to here tells me the same thing, which means that there will not, or shouldn't be, any voices raised - but there is many a slip 'twixt cup and lip. Anyone who knows me will be fully aware of my on and off relationship with that fickle ould whore, Lady Luck. For all I know she is already polishing the Doc Martens with a view to giving me a swift kick in the testacularities - a hobby she has been extremely fond of over the years.
But! Let's not be churlish here, let us be reasonably confident but, at the same time, remember, the words of the great Arab sage when he said, "Put your trust in God, but first tie up your camel." Bearing that in mind I shall wear my cricketing box faithfully. It may not stop the handbag-swinging ould tart, but it may take the sting out of her size twelves.
However, there is always the chance that she, Lady L, has her eyes and attention somewhere else these days - stranger things have happened at sea - and she must be as fed up as me with booting the same fellow all the time. Let me put it this way: if Dolly Parton gave birth to triplets, and if I was one of them, I would be the one who got the bottle.
Given all of the above, and returning to my usual mental condition of blind optimistic pessissism, maybe everything will turn out quite well, and it could be a winter of reasonable contentment. I will have to hope for the best but expect the worst - it makes sense.
I have got a day out in the coming week, but I am not actually going anywhere and nobody is coming to spend the day with me, so all I intend to do is go out, collect my phone and make a few calls to chat to a couple of folk. Then I will just come back into the jail and that will be my day out - over before lunch. It doesn't matter, it's just a box-ticking exercise anyway. The following week should he more interesting hopefully.
Where does that leave me then?
Waiting for the snow and cold that is supposed to hit at some point during the coming week. Who knows, if it gets nasty enough it could still turn into my winter of discontent, for a couple of days anyway - we will see.
Ha! My pigeons have got the right idea - they sit in their warm, cosy loft, full of corn, and just give me pitiful looks when I suggest that they might like to go out for a fly around. You can almost hear their thoughts - "Get stuffed!", or words to that effect.
It's only fools like me who go out in the cold for no good reason, pigeons are nobody's fool and, let's be fair, they don't suffer from winters of discontent.
The Voice In The Wilderness
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