there was a fairy tale that left a lasting impression on me. I’ve always been a reader of things and from amongst the plethora of childhood tales the story of “The Little Match Girl” by Hans Christian Andersen has remained emblazoned on some far hidden corner of my mind. If not so much for the literary content as for the iconic image of a little girl in a dire situation ……
We’ve been experiencing a dismal late winter this year, the whole country has been gripped with severe weather and as I sit in my office chair (studiously ignoring a pile of work that calls my name loudly and vociferously) the wind is howling viciously outside. Snow has been falling just up the road and a liquid deluge invading the coast. Yet less than a month ago, on a weekend break in the mountains this was the vista that we opened our eyes to every morning – a festival of sunshine, gentle breezes and forever blue skies.
A particulary pernicious gust that tickled my ribs (despite suitable layering) during today’s riotous lunchtime scurry between various business institutions and you have ….
” And the sky was dark with menace,
Clouds rolled around in angry discourse,
A fierce wind pierced the thin fabric of her coat and it was as though an icy hand reached down into her very soul to quash the last embers of hope.
A flicker of white caught her eye, snow – not the stuff of childhood, no snow angels or hot chocolate, no vestige of glee, no anticipation of play.
Instead a harbinger of doom, death apparent in it’s soft embrace for the weak, the homeless, the faceless figures on the street.”
~ xxx ~