fluctuations

Every morning we wake up to sharp frosts.  As I scrape away at my windscreen with my Carte de séjour I try to remember what other winters have been like.  No snow here this year.  No snow here for 5 years, but frost yes and beautiful clear skies all day long.  I scrape away and ponder other things like how there are some people in the world who have possibly never had to scrape the ice off their car in the morning; royalty, landed gentry......I ponder what it would be like to have the car driven up to your door, de-iced and all ready for you to go to work.

At work the thermometer in my classroom registers 11°.  I let the pupils keep their coats on and I write on the board with my gloved hands which proves useful if you make a mistake and have to rub it off.

By break time there is some warmth in the sun.  I drink my coffee and watch how the cour de récré gives way to fields, then hills, then the mountains.  The snow line isn't far away.   

By lunchtime I can take my coat off.  Between lessons we sit on the terrace and eat oysters and drink Gaillac perlé but in a couple of hours the fire will have to be lit, the night will be crystalline, the morning will be white and it'll be time to start scraping again.