Anyone who is interested in world weather patterns will know that the icy hordes are gathering in the Arctic north ready to pour down over the Russian plains and out over Central Europe on their way to stomp all over the British Isles.
Which is no more than an amusing way to say that we have another bout of intense cold weather on the way. Tomorrow or the day after, so I’m told. And there was me yesterday, gazing out at the sunshine, looking for signs of Spring.
As it happens, my bones and innards decided in the early hours this morning that the cold had already arrived, and I woke coughing and spluttering and struggling to get warm.
I have, so it seems, gathered unto myself another winter cough. Or it might be the same one, back after a nice peaceful rest.
Increasingly, so I find, winter and old men do not make good bedfellows.
