Of ice IN my blood

I love how one day we're all in t shirts with sweaters hung carelessly round our shoulders, and the next (literally, 24 hours later) everyone's wrapped up in triple layers, hands in gloves, necks muffled in (pretty pretty trinity) scarves and EAR MUFFS. Which I don't own, but are attractive anyway. Come to think of it, I don't own a trinity scarf either. 30 pounds is almost 90 sing dollars, damnit.

But it really IS getting colder, and to quote a nice, sweet comforting 2nd year: it doesnt get warm again till ohhh...APRIL. *sob. I hope it snows, just because if I have to endure this cold, I should get at least THAT much of a reward, shouldn't I? Am contemplating bringing out my red winter jacket, but it's RED, see, and immensely bulky. We'll see tomorrow. At some point life is going to have to take precedence over style. Before I turn blue would be a good point. And for those of you who think it can't be THAT cold, we get winds from SIBERIA. SIBERIA. S.I.B.E.R.I.A. I jest not.

Cold, let me tell you, is not conducive to productivity. Mainly because when one realises it is cold outside, one realises one would rather stay inside. And if outside is just outside one's covers, one then realises that one would much definitely prefer to be WITHIN one's covers, and promptly turns the alarm clock off, rolls over and goes back to sleep. One overslept by 3 hours today, which is a record, even for one. Even upon recognising that one had 20 minutes to be ready for lecture, it took one amazing amounts of will power to get OUT of bed, in full knowledge that one's toes were going to freeze (which they did). I've never looked forward to hot showers so much. And yes, daddy, if you're reading this, I said SHOWERS. There's nothing like being very very cold to persuade one that a very very warm shower would be a very very good idea. We've taken to hogging the showers, which is quite amusing really. And even when I HAVE gotten myself out of bed, and am curled up relatively warmly dressed in my tub chair (which is becoming quite the favourite position), my FINGERS are cold and I'm reduced to sitting on them till I get up enough will power (again) to make myself hot chocolate and warm my fingers thus. Which, naturally, makes it quite impossible to do other stuff with them. Other things being reading books, typing essays, and writing plans. Not good.

What IS good though, are my plans for the weekend. I've weasled myself out of an early morning run with Fiona (it's waaay too cold to run, I'm sorry. I'll stick to pilates in thermals, track pants and a sweater.), but have promised to go for breakfast for her in hall, which is really good. Cooked, HOT breakfast. I have cereal, otherwise. After which I'm gonna do work till 11, at which point I'm heading over to the chaplain's place to help set up her daughter's doll house. It's so PRETTY, and it's got everything...even cutlery and tiny flowers and stuff. Then MORE work, and then rag raids at 2. Then back to work until 7, when I'm meeting a whole bunch of people at Great Gate and we're going to the Midsummer Commons to watch the Guy Fawkes fireworks whoopeeee. And if we're lucky we might just be able to crash the free dinner the Christian Union is giving. Free food's always welcome. Sunday it's choir practice at 930, and Mass with the Papal Nuncio at 1115, after which it's work again till after dinner. THEN I'm going for a concert by the Dante Quartet, which promises to be a brilliant evening with pretty brilliant company. Whoop.

Right. Then it's monday, at which point I would (under normal circumstances) be having a full blown essay crisis. I've had 3, for 3 essays, and I don't intend for it to happen again because it is NOT FUN. Therefore, I will now take my leave, and attempt to finish reading the Duchess of Malfi AND The Spanish Tragedy tonight. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee :p

Oh and zid? I do NOT have an accent. Pfft.