The days are getting to be ridiculously short. I got up two hours ago and it's not yet light outside. The sun, like some hungover teenager, struggles to lift its head above the horizon even at midday.
It is freezing outside, literally. The door downstairs actually has a thin slick of ice covering the inside of its little window, and GM prefaces like every other sentence with "hrm, maybe I should buy another heater..".
My heartfelt thanks go to H&M, who are the only people I've managed to find in the high street who care enough about pregnant people to produce tights made out of at least 50% wool and with an extra bum panel so that the growing belly will fit at the front. OK, so it looks like it's made to fit an enormous diaper across the back, but at least my piles and urinary infections are kept from an icy death. Once again, thank you, Swedish people. And don't even get me started on the children's department in IKEA.
I actually love the cold. Not because of the cold, which is of course a bit of a bitch (it's like when you visit somewhere really hot and rush between stores to enjoy as much air conditioning as possible, except with the opposite pretext), but because it gives more light. The sun is so pale now it would barely be noticed if it was cloudy and rainy all the time.
Also, I love Christmas. Love it love it love it, although I am already fearing the eating aspect will be much curtailed this year due to the growing belly aspect of pregnancy, which is really starting to take its toll despite me not having put on abnormal amounts of weight. Next week I shall bake gingerbread, and from thereon out, the year will be a veritable feast of advent calendars, cosy fireplaces and long lie-ins snuggled up to GM. Bring it on.