Hugga Mugga

Cold today. I'm not good with cold. By evening I had resorted to making mugs of tea just so that I could hang on to them like a hot water bottle. This mug, my old favourite from New York four years ago, is particularly good at holding the heat. And I'm wearing my wooliest wooly jumper. 

It all began this morning; I did a bit of work in the garage, sorting stuff out, but that was when I got chilled. Our garage is our final frontier, like other peoples' attics (which we don't have because we converted ours). It's like doing archaeology down there, everything from dinner plates to half pots of paint, fondue sets and rusty axes, rusting dumbbells and packs of wood for flooring. I knew after an hour and a half that I hadn't wrapped up warm enough and for the rest of the day my bones were cold from the inside out. 

I am already thinking about how many layers of clothes to wear tomorrow and have made the decision that the wooly hat is on, even if the fashion police want to chase me from here to Leatherhead.

Cats seem to be adapting to life in Felixhaven; Dylan in particular appears much more chilled, and  it probably helps that the weather has turned colder and made them happier with being close to home. That said, he loved being down the garden and in the garage with us this morning, and was prancing around like a kitten.

Enough now. Time to go and turn on the electric blanket ...