Please excuse any spelling mistakes but I'm typing this with gloves on. My fingers are so cold that I'm surprised they aren't covered in tiny icicles like the ones growing on the top rail of our fence. One knock and I'm sure they'll shatter into a million pieces (my fingers not the fence).
Son#5 was the brave photographer when he took the rubbish bin out. He's still of an age where frozen puddles and the dog's water bowl fascinate him. To me they just mean brrrrrrrrrrrr. I am just proud that I have somehow managed to finally leave my nice warm bed with electric blanket and find a somewhat sunny spot to sit in but I'm willing to admit that I'm not yet ready to go outside and brave the cold especially when it means I'll be handling wet sheets that need to be hung on the line.
Ooh, just the thought of it makes me shiver. I think I need another cup of tea before I even consider it.
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