This piece was written for the Six Sentence Challenge, with the prompt word of ‘armour’.
I’m an Australian on a brief visit to the city the locals insist is pronounced Tronno and my hosts have pre-warned me to buy some protective clothing as armour against the snow conditions, as well as earmuffs and heavy boots, but I economise with a heavy coat, a thick scarf and a beanie.
That evening they pick me up in a car and take me to a nearby restaurant that serves fabulous Thai food but weariness makes me want to call time early but I insist on my hosts staying to enjoy themselves.
After all, it’s only 3 blocks to my hotel.
By now it is minus 25 and the wind is howling.
After block 1, I can no longer feels my hands inside my inadequate gloves and after block 2, I feel like if I touch my ears or my beard they will break off and by half-way along block 3, I fear I won’t make it because my street-shoe-clad feet have turned to solid ice.
Cursing my miserliness, somehow I make it into the hotel and slump in an armchair, waiting for something approximating feeling to return to my feet so I can make it across the lobby to the lifts.