Lies, damned lies...

The better half (as we speak, sitting in a corner, feeling sorry for herself) lured me here under false pretenses. Wall to Wall sunshine, she told me. Shorts and T-Shirts all through the year. Sitting on the beach in December, sipping refreshing amber nectar.

Dear reader, she lied.

I am, as I write, wearing socks, a T-shirt, jeans, a shirt, a pullover and a hoodie. I am too afraid to go to the bathroom because the heating doesn't get there. The sun IS shining, true, but it's an illusion - you step out and the arctic chill hits you immediately.

It's a statistical anomaly, she tells me. It's never this cold in January. Yeah, right, whatever. I'm packing the suitcase and heading back to London. At least, there you know what to expect...

Actually, it's not that bad, although we were up in the North last weekend and had to contend with sub-zero nighttime temperatures and snow on Mount Hermon (actually, that was kinda fun...)

Hopefully, the cold snap will soon pass. In the meantime, I'm going to curl up under the duvet (noisy small child allowing, of course) to read this

ta-ta for now