It is far too bloody cold. I cannot function properly. My brain has given up, wrapped itself in a warm scarf and gone indoors, leaving me to cope without it.
Yesterday I got confused by dinner. I went to the supermarket twice, and have cupboards/freezer/fridge full of food but I couldn’t for the life of me put it together as a meal. And I am blaming the weather for that. Because my mind thinks we should be shifting season, and moving away from stews and towards quiche. But it is too cold for quiche, and I am fed up of stew. So I had a crisp sandwich, and everyone cobbled together something that they fancied from the foodstuffs available.
I also am baffled by Syds clothes. He is 19 months old, and his 12 to 18 month clothes are snug and flapping about the ankles, but the shops are full of clothes for warmer days- it really isn’t t-shirt temperature, but I cannot buy a long sleeved vest anywhere, so am continuing the battle to get the poppers done up until spring finally decides to arrive. And I am wearing TWO cardigans. TWO. I look lumpy. I mean, I am lumpy, but I look even lumpier still under the additional knitted layers required to stay warm.
The sun shone for a bit yesterday. It cheered my gloomy soul. I gathered me and the small chap quickly together, and headed out, mind full of intentions of romping in the fresh air. BUGGER THAT! One minute from the front door and I was hit in the face by an artic wind that took my breath away, so we headed for the play cafe for the fourth time this week instead.
I know it is terribly English and terribly dull to complain about the weather, and actually I do not mind winter weather in its proper wintry place, it is just the dragging on of it that is depressing me. I feel tired and grey. I need some warmth in my old bones, my boys need some fresh air without the shivering and I want to eat salad again!
I am renaming this season Springter. Now may it please feck off and let real Spring have a go….