I cut a comical figure today. But I don’t feel funny. I’m wearing woolly leggings and socks under my skirt, a thermal vest, two long sleeved tops, two cardigans, a bobble hat. We’ve been without hot water and central heating for about 24 hours now and I’m not happy. I don’t mind being ridiculously dressed, but it’s not working and I’m still cold.
I don’t do cold. In another life I was a lizard. I absorb the heat I need to function from the atmosphere. In winter I need a daily scalding bath to keep my circulation circulating, my bones warm. Without heat, the blood starts to coagulate in my veins, fingers, toes and nose numb, bones ache, brain slows to a stop. If I’m cold, I can’t sleep. So I don’t like cold.
I envy warm people, the ones you see laughing, hatless, outdoors in winter. People who generate their own heat. People with internal boilers. Winter sees me bundled into unattractive layer upon layer, woolly hat pulled low over my grey, spotty face, shoulders hunched, walking briskly in an attempt to warm up. I would not look good in an advert for ski wear.
So for the foreseeable future, I am dreaming of steamy jungles, black sand too hot to walk on, bone dry deserts, shady hammocks on tropical beaches, bath water seas. And sweating. Right now, I’d like to be sweating.
I like my life, I really do. I just wish it was a bit warmer.
This week Josie asked me to “Imagine there is another ‘you’, living in a parallel universe.”