Not that I have ever had the desire to put razor blades up my nose, but cold weather does make you think that that is how it would feel like. It is the same kind of scenario as, say, when you eat something that tastes like dog food, but you've never eaten dog food, but because you might have once smelled dog food your olfactory glands get all excited and then your salivary glands get freaked out and all of a sudden you realise that what you are eating is something that tastes the same as your favourite pooches food.
With the onset of some mad weather on the Southern Ontario Canadian front, my mind throws itself back to a few weekends ago when Ontario experienced its coldest weekend this year, maybe the coldest ever, or at least certainly the coldest since the mid-1990s. Anyway, that was a cold weekend. A lovely, blue-skied sort of weekend that tricks you into thinking it's warm outside because of the sun, but is awfully chilly because no clouds are around keeping the heat near the ground. So I had a coat. I had boots. I was certainly wearing my hat and mitts. However, my hat and mitts are poorly suited to the Truth of Cold that are Canadian winters. Also, my boots although stylish and what my mum described as something that 'Dancers might wear' (thanks Mum!) and my coat was eversochic, I damn near froze my g'nads off. To do so, those bad boys would have had to leap out of my lower abdomen, salute 'Aurevoir!' to their uterine chum and hitch a ride to somewhere hot and balmy. Luckily, Canada is also blessed with homes which heat and double-glazed windows and insulation so all was well. However, between homes and stores and coffee shops and whatever else, I swear there were razor blades nestling carefully in my wee nostrils every time I took a refreshing breath in. Not nice. Makes you really appreciate the fact that you have a warm house to go home to as well. It also makes you happy when it is snowing, too, because the razor blades tend to take the high road as snow in winter equals warmer weather (ie -10 maybe) whereas snow has an awfully tough time of it when it's colder and just stays up in the clouds.
-20 degrees Centigrade = no warmth (ie cold) = no snow (or -20 = brr = - :;:;:)
-10 degrees Centigrade = warmer(er) = snow (or -10 = :) = +:;:;:)
Clearer? Thought so.
So beyond the fact that I am actually ecstatic about snow and cold and all that jazz, I have no real, logical way of describing the fascinating sensation of shaving implements up my schnoz. I suppose there are some mysteries which we shall never understand. Oh well. Onwards, upwards: chaps!