It's That Time Of Year Again...

...autumn is here, and the temperature of Worcestershire is dropping, slowly but surely.

This is great news for me, overall.
     It means that I can conduct my normal day to day life without sweating like a pig (sexy). It means that I can enjoy being outside without worrying that I will either smell or burn. It means that walking becomes pleasurable for me again.

This is all very lovely, obviously.
     However, there is one downside to this, as the coming of autumn/winter brings with it a change in the temperature inside as well as out, which is bad news for me, because in our family, our home has a nickname. It is called 'The Icebox'.
     And true to its name, it is (something to do with the cellar, apparently); it seems to draw cold air in, and kick warm air out. Which is brilliant, in summer, but not brilliant at all in winter.

Today, therefore, the Icebox is an icebox. Outside, the sun is gently warming the ground below and all is pleasantly cool. Inside, I am wearing thick trousers, thick socks, a thermal vest and a thick dressing gown. That would be enough, usually, but since returning from taking the dog for his morning walk - we saw pheasants, coal tits and gold finches, and there was a tantalizingly brief glimpse of a king fisher as well - I've been sat here in one place all morning not moving all that much. First I had to finish sewing the makeshift tail feathers onto Paddy's bird ready for Mother to take it with her after lunch, and then I got down to dealing with deactivating all of those darn e-mail alerts from the recruitment websites that have been bothering me for the past few months  (my Lord, do the designers of the websites make that a long-winded process, or what? Are they hoping people will just give up?), and I am now coming to the conclusion that all the garb I have on isn't enough, actually. I may have to go and fetch a blanket as well.

...I know what you'll be thinking.
     Turn the fire on, you berk! Activate the central heating!
     But the thing is, I can't.
     The central heating we simply don't use ever (long story. I think I've told it, actually. Look back a-ways), so that's out. The fire, we do, and usually the living room is nice and toasty from the first sign of nip in the air (gas bill be damned), but this year, Mother is, well... - how can I put this delicately? - ...Mother is getting very warm at the moment, and with increasing frequency.
     So, I can't put the fire on. Or at least not yet. She is due back from church any minute (late service: Harvest Festival), and she will almost certainly be hot and bothered and probably very much looking forward very much to entering The Icebox. It would be the height of insensitivity, given her current delicate and precarious hormonal condition, to turn the living room into an oven in the meantime.

She will be leaving again shortly afterwards, though, and then will be out for the majority of the afternoon (with a brief reappearance in the middle to bring the dog back), so the fire can go on then.
     Until then, though...

=gets up and hurries off to fetch a blanket=

Alice x

UPDATE

Mother just got back, and upon entering the room, shivered and said "brr! It's cold in here! Pop the fire on for a bit, will you?"

=rolls eyes=

...Go figure...