January 9: Alive Alive Oh

Went sledging today. I am a doctor’s worst patient. It’s not that I’m bored of doing nothing. In all honesty, I’m still too buggered in every which way to be bored. I just thought ‘sod it’. The snow still seems very happy to be visiting, covering the grass and the roads and the trees and making the world content and beautiful. It seems to be saying, ‘I’ve packed my bags. I’m moving in and staying for at least a month so you better get used to it.’ My big sister is also visiting with her husband and three boys (the youngest just a month old). I claim my place on the sofa but the room is just too small for mum, me (extra space for duvet and pillows), two sisters, a brother-in-law, an excitable dog, a cat, four noisy children, and a huge Jenga-style pile of boxes.
At 4pm, big sister says: ‘Let’s go sledging before we kill each other.’
‘I’ll come,’ I chirp.
Raised eyebrows all round. Don’t think I’ve even left the house yet so perhaps sledging is a bit ambitious.
‘Don’t worry,’ I lie. ‘I’ll stay in the car’.
The pajamas stay on, as do the thick socks. Layered on top are two fleeces, a hefty coat, gloves, a hat and wellington boots.
We drive up the hill opposite our house, the car skidding and struggling with the ice-slicked gradient, park in a lay-by. The others drag the sledges and children to a field. I creep after them, very, very slowly.
The children like it for a while, their dad laughing and whooping as he tugs them down the slippy stuff at the rate of knots. Then they cry. First one, then the others. They are cold. Their toes are cold, their fingers, their ears. Big snotty tears run down their red-cheeked faces. The sun is sinking, the light dimming over the hills and the city and the murky blue-brown sea beyond. Sod the kids. Mum has a go with her arthritic knees, leaning on us for support as she gets her bum down low on the sledge. The sisters have a go. I just can’t resist. Gingerly, I lower myself down, make sure my coat's not trailing on the floor, and tuck my feet on.
‘Ready?’
‘Go for it.’
The brother-in-law heaves and pulls and whisks me down the hill, the freezing air zinging at my cheeks as we hurtle over the soft ground and whatever lumps and bumps are in our way. I stay on, right to the bottom and whoop with laughter. I’m alive, I think. The world is beautiful on this cold, sun-set day and I’m on top of the world and outside in fresh air and alive. And isn’t life fantastic.