Magic coat and gloves

I generally hate winter. The short days and long hours of darkness depress me. The cold makes me miserable to the core. Waking up becomes more of a chore than usual, taking showers is a torture. My face is wind-whipped, my fingers nipped by the cold, my skin turns painfully parched, and I shiver in the mornings under my duvet, or on the way to work.

This winter I shall be happier. For the first time, I have pretty, luxurious leather gloves to keep my pretty little hands warm, and two of them no less! I'd always made do with random wool gloves, or ugly cheap gloves because I'd always wanted to wait to get proper lovely gloves from Italy. The first time I went to Milan in 2003, I'd still been a poor student, and it wasn't at all certain that I would be staying on in Europe in the long term. And I didn't go back to Italy till April this year. But this time, after a deep struggle about the rightness of what I was doing, I went shopping and splurged on two beautiful, deeply luxurious and sinful pairs of leather gloves, one silk-lined, and one cashmere-lined with rabbit fur (I felt so bad, but I tell myself, this will be my one fur item, ever?) trimming with little buttons along the side. Both classic black.

And today, I went to Zara to pay for my lovely lovely red coat which I'd spotted in the Zara in Llubljana. I'd fallen in love with it, but was somewhat chary of the bling bling brightness of the shiny silver buttons. But even the very fussy cousin J approved of it, so I skipped off happily and bought my lovely red coat. A bright spot of cheery red sunshine in dreary black and grey London.

My cloak and armour to warm and protect me,and ward off the evil winter chill. To keep me safe and warm, and tide me through another cold winter until I am delivered into the embrace of a pair warm arms, at once strong and gentle, that will cherish me. (The wood cutter to my little red riding hood?)

Very sappy and drippy I know. But I'm still young. While part of me has resigned to a fate of a lifetime of aloneness, let the little girl in me who still wants to be a princess dream on.