It was bitterly chilly this morning. I do my best to dress up warm and yet I still dread going out. I don’t have to. But I do. It’s both a pain and pleasure. Pain as in my fingers and toes sting with the cold of it and pleasure because I am mostly alone and the world is so quiet and still at that time in the morning. I do love it. It’s just my corporeal self that suffers. I tried to make a drawing but it was hopeless with mittens on and the wind nearly blew my sketchbook into the sea. He was quiet this morning. He slept with a cardigan on. Bless him. This flat doesn’t do well in the cold. It doesn’t heat. Heigh ho. The rain and warmer weather will return, soon enough.
