It's January. The gloom outside is extreme. The cold rain is in your face. Continuously, horizontally, painfully. The man in the mirror is a ghost. Streets are full of zombies. Gloomy zombies. They're at your workplace too.
You're thinking about sun, speed and heat. Palm trees, a blue sky and friends with a tan and determined mind. Will this happen this Easter?
Meanwhile, we're escaping to our workshop where the weekend is warm and Rockets soon will turn blue. Serge Blue.
Cina in Mordor, just before the gate to Salt Slush heaven.
Where wrenches are warm,
troubles are few
and no feeling is blue.