The cold today felt intense. It was underfoot. It was in the wind between buildings. It found its way down through collars, and into gloveless, aching hands doomed to hold packages that kept them from finding the shelter of pockets.

Perhaps by Canadian standards it was not that cold, but it still felt bitter to those of us used to the milder damp that fogs in over much of southern England at this time of year.

What did this cold look like? It looked like the hunched shoulders of the skinny young workman out for his lunchbreak without his jacket. It looked like the tight wrapped, long coat of the high-heeled office worker hurrying towards warmth. It looked like the one-armed, self-hugs of the smokers tucked into the corners of grey buildings. It looked like the taut, cold profiles of those pedalling through the freezing air on their delivery bikes.

What did it sound like? It sounded like the laughter and shouts of children running in the playgrounds, running to burn off the cold. It sounded like the seagulls calling and circling in the wind high above the buildings. It sounded like the empty spaces outside the bars, normally crowded with drinkers. It sounded like the gush of a door as people pushed through into the warmth beyond.

It is so fortunate to be able to head indoors, out of the cold wind. I hope that any on the streets tonight will be able to find some shelter and warmth.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023