A Song of Ice and Fire

"I'd like to sing a song...a song of great social and political import. And it goes like this..."
Janis Joplin: "Mercedes Benz"

"On a lonely afternoon in June, I need you...just like raindrops"
Basement Jaxx: "Raindrops"

"Winter is coming"
George R. R. Martin, first words of the "A Song of Ice and Fire" series

I have a confession to make. I despise summer. And this is why.

Every year, without fail, the same thing keeps happening. The hotter it gets, the more I long for the sun to disappear again.

Halfway through the hottest day of the year last week, a day which saw the British workplace turned into an experience far beyond even Dante's wildest dreams of infernal torment, a day in which air-conditioners howled in pain as they were worked harder than they have been in many years, I left my desk for a few minutes and heard a very brief burst of this from a passing car as I sought a breath of air outside.

And much as I despise the song, its almost ubiquitous presence in British ice-rinks (most notably Nottingham and my own second home, the Skydome) meant that, as others sweated and complained about the heat, my soul went on one of its increasingly frequent journeys to a world where it is permanently early September, the leaves are just starting to fall from the trees and you can make the trip to hockey in golden sunshine one day and a dark, wet, rain-pattering evening the next.

This is a world when hope springs eternal, the winter stretches away in front of you and everything that's been so sorely missed during the seemingly endless weeks of speculation, rumour-mongering and desperate hunting around for information on new signings is back. The new signings are on the ice, your spot at the plexi is still open and you fit it like an old, familiar glove, and the boys of summer have finally given way. It's a bright, shining time lit by the muted glare of floodlights off pristine new ice and soundtracked by conversations picked up almost where they left off in April.

Trouble is, reality intrudes all too quickly, and we're back to an earth of traffic jams, heatwave alerts and overcrowded beer-gardens, sound-tracked by Eeeeebeeeefaaaa anthems, the sound of British failure at Wimbledon, rain-delayed cricket matches and really, really bad holiday dancefloor songs.

But surely I can't be the only one whose summer is occasionally interrupted by such dreams...it can be a fragment of song, a random video on youtube, or even the kind of memory when you're bored and daydreaming at work on a burning midsummer Wednesday...

The bite of the hockey bug is one that just keeps on itching...and you only need one bite to put the poison of being a closet summer-hater into your blood...

Come join me in the autumn of the soul...it's only 50 days or so until hockey season begins again...:)

There you are...after such philosophy, a bit of hard news will go down a storm, so in the next few days we'll have another round-up of the latest goings-on and player movements in the EIHL.

Until then, keep enjoying the summer...