It’s Cold Out, Baby

All of a sudden, the trees are bare. Their wealth of green leaves have briefly turned the colours of the rainbow, and then their autumn mantle has disappeared and they line the streets and pathways, a hazard for those areas where rain has plastered them to the ground and made their surfaces a slippery danger for the unwary. The weather has changed, and the temperature dropped into single figures (centigrade, for those using outdated measuring systems). Winter is staring us in the face, challenging us to fight it for a last few moments of sun and warmth before the frost coats our lawns and, perhaps, snows fall and obliterate everything. We look forward to our breath fogging up the air in front of our faces, icicles hanging precariously on guttering, frosted trees along the forest pathways, and warm drinks of mulled wine in front of an open hearth. The weather will change, no matter what we do, and hopefully for real, cold, nose-reddening weather despite the advance of climate change.

And now the questions change, as people see the kilted man striding off to the shops, mulling titles in bookshop windows, enjoying a small glass or two of whisky in appropriate establishments. It is no longer the Three Big Questions so many feel the need to pose, strangers all, but a new and simple one: aren’t you cold?

More to the point: why are you cold? Why, when you know that winter comes at this time every single year, have you not prepared yourself? Why is it such a surprise that the streets are slippery, that there is fog along the way, that mittens hamper your every attempt to pick up those dropped keys?

No, thank you for asking, I am not cold. I am well prepared. I am used to a little coolness around the knees, and there really is no need for you to grasp them to check my temperature. The cold weather is a pleasure, as much as the rays of sunlight and the first buds of spring. Enjoy it while you can.