I find it hard to accept that the weather is set to stay on the distinctly chilly side.
I can’t remember the last time that I was truly warm. That sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?
But living in a draughty house with children who mistake doors for grand archways (as in they don’t need to be shut) and with fuel prices the way they are, all I seem to do is pile on more and more jumpers.
I’ve forgotten what my body looks like under all the layers I’m wearing – which is probably no bad thing – but my hair is now telling me that it has had enough.
It’s adopted the pose of the continually stressed: frizzy with a surly hint of grey.
I may have to resort to the hair dye – if it’s not frozen in the bottle.