Hibernation

After 2 weeks of weather hovering around the zero degree mark I am beginning to understand why any animal that can, has taken flight and headed south for the winter. The size of London means that it takes about an hour to go anywhere, with something as simple as a food shop taking a round trip of an hour and a half, with a 20 minute walk each way. And despite the days being brilliantly sunny, after a few steps the crystalline air start to splinter your lungs so I have been battening down the hatches and spending a lot of time indoors.

At 20 to 6, it's pitch black outside, and Adrian and I are hanging out in the kitchen having a cook-off - Boeuf Bourguignion vs Spaghetti Bolognaise - while a procession of potential flatmates wanders through the kitchen. We feel a bit like those real estate agents who recommend baking cookies when you are trying to sell. Not that we need to do a lot of selling - the house sells itself - but conversely the visitors have been of varying degrees of suitability, such as the 45 year old holistic healer who came around last night and tried to bond with us by trying to discuss how cool Bjork was. (Yes, in 1994). Ah yes, I may be 30, but I'm still, for a last brief shining moment, one of the cool kids.