I’m not entirely certain that the word suggested for today’s topic is completely suitable, I can only speak for myself where in the South East of England we have enjoyed a very pleasant spring day with quite a lot of sunshine, so I have scrapped my first draught and started again.
I shall keep the first draught for another day, but here’s a taster. We were huddled together for warmth in a small three man tent, the frigid north wind was blowing mercilessly, Scott clutched at Oates in a futile bid to stop him leaving the tent, but to no avail.
Here is an alternative more in keeping with the weather I experienced today. We were huddled together in a small three man tent, there was no frigid north wind blowing, Scott was outside cooking breakfast, we had bacon as oats had run out!
I must say this word frigid is proving harder than expected, I could regale the story of a girlfriend I had who was frigid, but I have had relatively few girlfriends and none of them have been frigid, so we’re back to square one again.
I’m reminded, now a sudden flash of inspiration has hit me, of the tale of the plane crash involving a football team from Chile, a frigid north wind was blowing causing the plane they were travelling in to crash atop some desolate Peruvian mountain, I’m shivering, just thinking about it.
Now one doesn’t want to over egg a story, but I will as this is a true story, suffice to say, the frigid north wind that was blowing was enough to cause the death of some of the team from hyperthermia and those that survived told the morbid tale of cannibalism of their dead team mates.
Obviously it wasn’t like Scott, cooking the dead over a small primus stove, I believe they cut small slivers of muscle and ate that and drunk small amounts of blood to survive, initially quite shocking but when faced with these conditions, I can well understand doing anything to survive.
After all, huddled in a three man tent sheltering from the frigid north wind and finally succumbing to a slow death from hyperthermia is no way for a gentleman to die, without even the luxury of having one’s dinner jacket to wear so that one looks presentable when found some years later, by a future Top Gear presenter in the latest four by four on some ridiculous escapade to the North pole or wherever.
I have nothing further to add on this subject, except to say, if one has the option, I would suggest, one avoids the frigid north wind wherever possible, especially if one has omitted to pack ones dinner jacket.