Why do I love Winter?
We all look like we’ve put on 3 inches around the waistline, but it’s 4 layers of warm clothing. Mum’s “don’t forget your coat, you can always take it off, but you can’t put it on if you don’t have it…” speech plays on repeat, like a mantra in my head once Autumn kicks in. 3 layers, winter coat, hat, scarf & gloves. Check.
Forget bad hair days in the colder months! A hat is the quick-fix that cures my bed hair anxiety.
I love that for a few months every year, I get to dress like The Artful Dodger, like I’m one of Fagan’s gang. There’s something a little bit sneaky about fingerless gloves and I love it!
Stew & Dumplings
No, not the stew & dumplings that you buy in the ready-meal aisle at ASDA. I mean the stew that your grandparents used to make in a massive pot. The stew that they start cooking at 9am & is still on the hob at 6pm! Stew that could easily feed a family of 4 for a week.
Nothing will ever make me more thankful than Christmas. I cocoon myself in Christmas spirit around mid-November time, much to my husband’s despair. The tree goes up 1st December and doesn’t come down again until January. Christmas songs, trees & tinsel, decorations, presents, FOOD. How can you not love Christmas when you can pig out on chocolate at 7am, open gifts, spend the day with your loved ones? On a day when a onesie is acceptable attire for Christmas Dinner. My annual tradition concists of Michael Buble’s Christmas album on LOUD, Baileys hot chocolate while I’m decorating my tree. Spending Boxing Day afternoon at your Nan’s because she’s put a spread on, desperately searching for emergency chairs, sipping on a Snowball. Finding glitter on everything- everywhere! I even got married 5 days before Christmas & invited Santa to my wedding! What’s not to love?
My husband has only to whisper “it’s snowed!” at 6am & I’m wide awake, out of bed & at the bedroom window. Nothing has ever gotten me out of bed quicker! Yes, fine, call me a child! I haven’t quite got to the adult stage of hating snow. When it snows, I skip the worry about getting snowed in, I skip the mad dash to the supermarket for bread and milk, and jump straight to – what are we doing first? Snowman? Snowball fight? Snow angel?
I know, I’m 4 years old. And I don’t care.