Is There No Beginning to George Monbiot’s Talents?

I have spent the last two evenings skating. Last night we laid lanterns out across the ice and swooped and swung and fell flat on our faces on this silent lake in mid-Wales, for hours by moonlight. I should have been in bed – I have a chest infection and a cold – but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

For the exhilaration of this primal game was shaded with sadness: all of us knew that this time might be our last. It is many winters since most of the lakes in England and Wales have frozen hard enough to support a skating party; with every year the chances of another one recede. The fuss this country has made about the current cold snap reminds us how rare such events have become.

So said Monbiot on 9 January 2010 2009.

(Hat Tip – Mr. “Funnier Than Charlie Brooker” Eugenides.)

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One Response to “Is There No Beginning to George Monbiot’s Talents?”

  1. Django Says:

    I’m in tears here, that was just so moving: the moonlight, the frozen lake, the chest infection. Only Monbiot could describe it like this, our leading enviro-poet.

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