Inappropriate Clothing

It was -8 celcius when we woke up this morning, which is a temperature well into what is officially known The Brass Monkey Zone by the locals. Unfortunately Katie had to brave the cold to go to work, but I was lucky enough to have no reason at all to leave the house. It was still cold though, even with the central heating, and my fuzzy blanket, and my feet in the oven. I thought about setting my hair on fire, but I'd never get the nasty smell out of the carpet.

The cold also makes shedding those Christmas kilos a lot more difficult, as the last thing I want when I've come in from the cold is a salad. I want meatballs. I want steak. I want stacks of pancakes, hot from the pan and swimming in melted butter. The only thing that might save me from collapsing under my own gravity is soup, which is cheap, fairly healthy and very very warm. All praise to the creator of clam chowder.