Wrap up your troubles...

I've got the low-down-humphing-about-and-what-the-hell-is-going-on-with-the-weather-anyway-blues. One minute it's clammy, the next it's chilly. Seems like before I've even had the chance to parade about in my wide-leg-linen trousers, the boots and woollies will be out, and summer will once again feel a brief and disappointing fling.

And it's not just me who's giving in to a bit of seasonal moaning. Scotland's grannies are really going for it (shit, what does that say about me?). If I hear 'the nights are fair drawing in' one more time, I'm going to have to chime in with my best 'Aye, and we're all DOOMED, Captain Manwaring, DOOMED!'

No, that'll never do. In true Monty Python tradition, I will take the high road and look on the bright side (now wasn't that cliche-tastic!). After all, I'll be wheeling out my trusty blue anorak soon - that crumply practical burka that spits in the face of fashion and provides safe haven for my most disobedient wobbly bits. Thank heavens I never chucked it out in March in a premature fit of slimma-girl zeal!

Seems I'm not the only one longing for her winter wardrobe, either. One London dwelling pal is getting pant-wettingly excited about the prospect of her winter garb and, get this, wearing tights! Now is it just me, or is that plain wrong?

Oh well, no idea where I was going with this but I feel much better now. A weather winge shared is clearly a weather winge halved.

And to be fair, the nights ARE fair...