The knub and gist of this post is – it’s still winter in England – I’m cold, and ill, and at approximately 14:42 every day I delve into post-Australian-holiday gloom as I remember the blissful weather I’m missing out on back home. Is it always like this, England? So unreliable? So endless?
But then I walk through my town, and I get to see the view in the picture above. Filled my shrivelled heart with joy, it did, and the picture doesn’t do it justice. It was the kind of day that could only be so beautiful because of a combination of factors, which individually could (and often have) make one utterly miserable. But that day, there was just enough of a blue sky, and just enough sunshine to hint to me that Spring and – don’t get your hopes up – Summer aren’t too far around the corner.
Evidently I could never be a Stark. Shit’s waaaay too cold for the likes of me up in Winterfell.