In which I am all British and talk about the weather and don't mention David Mitchell or my Award at all...

This is now...

That was last week...

 

 

Now, I don't know about your part of the world (because, despite persistent rumour and my most avid attempts, I am not omnicognisant, even if I do give that impression due to my almost encyclopaedic knowledge of Doctor Who and Babylon Five), it has been quite warm here in Yorkshire.  Surprisingly, even given that we are further North than some parts of Iceland (no, all right, that's not quite true, but it certainly feels it, especially on a February morning at six o' clock when the wind is whistling through my nightie and there's a small snowfall on the sofa), that warmth has meant that even yours truly has taken off a layer!


A layer of what, I hear you cry, for am I not more layered than a layer cake made of onions?

Well, a layer of dirt for a start, for Spring sees the return of my annual bath. But mostly a layer of clothing, for I divested myself of a fleece and a cardigan only this past Wednesday. And then came the worry of the Summer Wardrobe...

I know people (and do not recoil in surprise, because although I might not get out much I have a wide social circle.  All right, it's not a very long circle, but it is wide.  Sort of, more of an ellipsis, I suppose.  More a thick line really, now I come to think of it.  But it's there...) who have completely separate wardrobes for Summer and Winter.  Completely!  Like, different cupboards and everything!  Whereas my summer wardrobe is simply my winter wardrobe minus a couple of layers of wool.  Every June I hang up my long-johns, whereupon they drag upon the floor because, due to a sizing mishap, I got long-johns that are more long than john and have to wear a cushion strapped to my middle to avoid walking out of my own underwear, discard at least one layer of fleece like a sheep caught in a particularly thorny bush, and leave my woolly hat and earmuffs at home.

Sexy, huh?  Just picture me wearing them...all right, you can stop picturing now.  I said STOP IT!  It's not healthy...

And every June this turns out to be a terrible mistake.  But because I live in Yorkshire (motto 'It Might Be Cold But We Will Not Weaken') I carry on wearing my Summer Wardrobe.  It's Summer, after all!


And now the weather is cold again, and, apparently, it's going to snow tomorrow.  But it took effort to get those long-johns stuffed into that cupboard, and if I open the door I worry that they might burst forth , propelled by all that potential energy (and six months' worth of dirt) and that I will be trapped underneath them until rescued.  And they're in the same cupboard as my fleece, my cardigan, my extra-thick jumper and my vest.. 

Besides, now I've got the 'garden furniture' out and it took hours to drag the sofa and table out through the window, so it can stay out there.  And the only things I have left to wear that won't kill me are a floaty top and a skirt that looks like a tablecloth. 

I'm going to be cold, aren't I?