First frost

Misty. Damp. Chilly, rather than bitingly cold. The first frost of the year has visited, befogging car windscreens and prettifying foliage. It’s not a heavy frost, but it’ll do for now, and I dearly hope it’s a sign of things to come. We need a good, hard winter – one that calls for scarves and bobble-hats rather than umbrellas and galoshes.

I want it cold and clear and crisp. I want rosy cheeks and tingling toes, ice on my ’tache and a flask in my pocket. I want snow, and winter sun, and walks through silent, white blanketed fields to pubs with open fires, mulled spice wine, hearty food, friends and laughter. I want sledging and snowball fights on the way home, slippers and a good book, cosy untaxing movies on the telly and the gentle patter of large flakes falling softly outside. And when I wake up in the morning, I want hoar frosts and ground frosts and the garden transformed into a storybook tableau, like the Christmas department store windows I saw as a child. And if a reindeer should find its way there, so much the better. But I’ll settle for cold, and clear, and crisp.


Let me know what’s on your winter wishlist by leaving a comment below, or sending me a tweet. 
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