Now, before you all wonder what on earth is going on in my home life that I have a new romance, worry not. The husband and I are still very much together, very much in love and rather content with our little family and lives. *passes around the sick bucket*
No, what I want to talk about is the winter romance. You know what I mean. When winter arrives, we are flooded with romantic images. The couple cuddled up in front of the log fire. The children playing in the snow. The winter walks wrapped up in cosy knitwear. Home cooking, baking and crafts galore.
I love the idealism of winter. Who wouldn’t love to spend their evenings on a soft leather sofa in front of a roaring fire with a glass of red wine in hand? What child (or adult for that matter) doesn’t love waking to see soft, white snow in their garden, perfect for sledging or building a snowman?
The trouble is, winter just isn’t like that for me and every year I end up disappointed.
When the temperatures drop as suddenly as they do here in England, it is more than my body can bear. I spend the first week confined to the flat until I can get an appointment with my GP to have my pain relief adjusted once more. Of course, while I am in pain, my mood plummets and our home is not one of happiness that the adverts would have you believe. Then, just as the pain becomes manageable, illnesses hit me, because my immune system is shot. Since mid-October I have had flu, chest infection, an abscess, tonsillitis and now I am recovering from a horrendous cold.
Quite aside from my body letting me down, we do not have a leather sofa or a real fire. We do not drink alcohol and we live in south-west England; the chances of snow are slim and even when we do get it, it tends to be more like grey slush than the lush picturesque stuff of dreams. Whilst I quite enjoy cooking when I can, my attempts at baking and crafting are something left to be desired and the last time I tried to bake brownies (from a packet mix) they failed to rise.
This year, Cheeky Chap wants to craft and he wants to bake so I will try. I hope we don’t fail too much because I have promised some homemade gifts for family this year but I am not expecting miracles and this year I have tried not to surround myself in the idealism of winter, to protect myself from the inevitable disappointment.
Do you find the idea of winter better than the reality? Or are you more realistic than I am?