Winter

This year, I'm more than a bit excited about winter... (now, don't get me wrong, I'll probably be the first to complain when an entire week ticks by, second-by-painful-second without a hint of sunshine). This anticipation has a lot, in fact, maybe everything to do with the fact I've spent the last ten or so months sweltering in 32C heat and 90% humidity. The more I think about it, I'm only made for a temperate climate. My curly dark hair, blue eyes and pale, somewhat blue-ish skin do not go well with bright sunshine and steam of Turkish-bath proportions.

On Sunday I wore tights for the first time this year, and proudly donned a new dark grey woollen cardigan, which I've customised with a green ribbon tie. Walking by the Thames the air felt crisp... not cold, but it held enough presence to draw attention to itself – the kind of chill that only gets noticing on leaving for a warm building. Something about the coolness in my hands as I wrapped my sweater closer around my chest was so familiar and graceful, that I smiled inside. Winter brings forth imagination… mince pies with orange zest in the pastry, dark afternoons spent on the couch under a blanket, the view from under an umbrella in the damp twilight, jam, waxy paper tied with ribbon at Christmas… I can’t wait.