Well, I’ve kinda sucked at updating this blog this week, haven’t I? I’ve been busy. And OK, also lazy, but mostly busy, stock-piling blog posts like a demented thing so I can go on holiday in December and not, you know, totally lose my livelihood or anything.
Yes, this would be the winter holiday I first started talking about back in August. The one I’ve done nothing about booking yet, but which will hopefully be booked within the next couple of weeks because seriously people, I am done with winter already. And yes, I know it’s technically still “Autumn” (is it?) but it’s not like you’d notice here in the Land O’Amber, which is a cold, harsh land where any temperature below “boiling” is deemed unacceptable to me.
I. Hate. This. Time. Of. Year. Hate it. Even getting dressed becomes a problem at this time of year. I mean, take Monday, for instance. On Monday, I got up, showered, dressed, walked to my desk, sat down… and then twenty minutes later I got back up again, walked back to the bedroom, removed every single item of clothing from the wardrobe and proceeded to drape them about my person, in a bid to fight off the cold that was seeping into my bones. I had socks hanging off my ears, sweaters on my legs – you name it.
Then, half an hour later, I was back, removing all of the aforementioned items and donning my “dog walking outfit”, which consists of the kind of clothes you don’t mind getting utterly ruined by mud and squelchy horrible leaves and stuff. I looked absolutely ridiculous. Seriously, I looked like some kind down-on-her-luck Arctic explorer, and I will continue to look like this until about May next year, because I just cannot stand to be outside for the length of time it takes to walk the dog dressed in anything other than fifteen layers. I would seriously wear a balaclava if I thought no one would see me.
The problem with this, though? People do see me. At the end of our street, for instance, I encountered a young woman who looked like she was walking to work. She was wearing trousers, a fine-knit cardigan and court shoes with bare feet. No coat. No hat. No thermal long johns. As she passed me (me in my dog-walking outfit, and hardly able to move my arms because I was wearing so many layers), we both slowed down and stared openly at each other, each of us wondering if we had somehow slipped into another dimension in which the climate was totally different from the one we’d just left.
Then this morning, as Terry and I drove out of the street, on our way to the gym? We passed a young girl in jeans and a t-shirt. A T-SHIRT. WITH BARE ARMS. In OCTOBER. Aaaargh! The Others, they never cease to amaze me. And I meanwhile, am now on three outfits per day:
Dog Walking Clothes
And back to “Normal Clothes”, although sometimes with additional layers as required.
It’s exhausting just keeping up with the outfit changes, seriously. I was not meant for this climate.
And this is why I will be going on holiday this December, even if it kills me (and if the last plane journey I took is anything to go by, there’s a good chance it will…). Right now, that holiday cannot come quick enough…