Ice houses
On days like today that it’s easy to understand why people wanted icehouses. We have a hot blustery wind that bears the ominous threat of bushfires. If I had an icehouse I would move my computer inside (or maybe find a good book in need of reading) and sit there all day, surrounded by giant blocks of pure cold. This is not the correct use of icehouses, but it’s what summer winds call for.
My favourite fiction-that-includes-an-historical-icehouse (not used in the proper manner either) is by Joan Aiken (Midnight is a Place) and my favourite drink from the product of icehouses is in CS Lewis’ The Horse and His Boy (sherbet) - although there may not be icehouses at work, the ice might have been brought direct from the mountains for the use of the idle rich. There is more rain in the mountains of Lewis’ world than in these mountains, that’s for certain!
Here are some London icehouses . Apparently these days bat hibernate in icehouses, which would give me company during my cool sojourn.
Except that I don’t have an icehouse. Typing ‘icehouse’ so many times has lowered the ambient temperature of my flat by a full degree Celsius, however.
November 28th, 2006 at 2:38 pm
(offers you some cold from last night)
Mind you, all this talk of ice is making me want sorbet.
November 29th, 2006 at 1:01 am
Mm. I’ll find you a recipe :).
November 29th, 2006 at 3:18 pm
Oooo! Thanks!