Cold Comfort

To think that just a couple of weeks ago I was sweltering in the Tropical Dome at the Botanical Gardens, Brisbane; now there’s a place I would like to be right now – warm damp air on warm, damp, wrinkle-free and silky skin. No goose-bumps, no hunching of shoulders around the ears, no need for socks, trousers, jumpers or coats…

The central heating is on. I’m wearing fleecy track bottoms, a sporty top (you have to look the part to feel the part – all part of my new Slimming World healthy living plan), a soft pink cardigan and a scarf, doubled. You might imagine that I should be warm but, no, my nose and hands are frozen. Little wonder that English people are reputed to have good skin – they spend several months of the year in cryogenic suspension. Cold comfort!

My tiny hand was frozen enough, even before placing it under the cold tap. My hand recoiled, my shoulders went up.

“Better than warm water from the cold tap – no need to keep it in the fridge,” Chris laughed.

I winced at mention of the word “fridge”. Warm water out of the cold tap sounded most appealing, likewise a swimming pool or spa heated by the sun; a sheet covering, or not, at nighttime – such bliss.

Last night I spent another night alone in our bedroom with two heaters turned on; Chris spent another night in an upstairs bedroom – no wish to spread his cold – although I had a sore throat myself. I’m fighting it (not fighting fit).

I lay in bed at four in the morning, fighting it with positive thinking, then thinking about two more stories for the new book, started but not revisited in such a long time. For some reason my subconscious self stirred me to think about Alexei the French Russian with the poet face, who taught French at the Grammar School long ago; who played gypsy guitar music and who could have been “the one”… Why did he hang himself in his forties? Could I have prevented him? No, not “the one” but I still think of him and wonder, and mourn, especially at four in the morning.

In the cold light of day Hurricane Imogen had abated; the rain had stopped but the wind whipped up the spume on the crests of the waves as they rolled in to shore. Imogen wasn’t as aggressive as Hurricane Henry, whom she had followed, but still she had a lashing tongue. Coming inside from the terrace I shivered. I would stay in and nurse my throat – maybe even stop it from progressing. No gym sessions today. There’s plenty of time until Thursday night – Slimming World group night. Do you know that there are hundreds of free foods to eat on the Slimming World Easy Plan? Cold comfort – I don’t want to eat any of them. What I wouldn’t give for a nice piece of deep-fried cod in unctuous crisp batter!

1 thought on “Cold Comfort

  1. Ah, but think of the heady pleasures of the English Spring and Summer, only just around the corner, while Oz descends into relative winter! (Pssst! Wanna cheap flight??!) Sadly, though, I have to agree that your substitution of the Gold Coast for the “Cold Coast” is not in truth the fairest exchange on the books!

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