When I was much younger and living at home, Dad would always growl at me for sitting right in front of the fire, “you’re as bad as the cat!”, he would grumble, before urging me to at least put some more wood on to maintain the toasty warmness I was hogging.
I won’t deny it, I love being warm or even hot… bed, the shower, in front of the fire: they’re all places I prefer not to leave, especially lately when proper winter has descended… and boy did it arrive with a thoroughly chilly and white fanfare last week! The teensy bit of snow that fell at my house did so while I was out and didn’t even have the decency to stick around – I suppose that’s one of few downsides of living sorta close to the sea.
While I do love to be warm, the cold makes me very happy too, because it ultimately leads me back to being warm! There’s the obvious fabulousness of winter coats, but the other, slightly more hard-work perk is this one:
I feel all cosy and warm just looking at that… plus the fire is roaring again. Obviously.