reasons why I twitch a bit when...

...people complain, in the middle of winter, that they wish it was summer. Those of you in the UK will know what I'm on about - as per usual in the British summer, it's gone very hot all of a sudden.
I'm fully aware that 28 degree temperatures (Celsius, not Farenheit obviously) are not that hot by some standards, but this is the UK where the slightest sign of extremity in the weather is staggering. Those same people who complain about the winter are, in many cases, now complaining about the heat.
I'm complaining about the heat, but I'm allowed. I never wish that summer would hurry up in the dead of winter. I like the cold. At least when it's cold you can put more clothes on. I complain about the winter because it is dark - most of my immediate family suffers with varying levels of SAD, and living with four miserable buggers when you're miserable yourself isn't the most fun.

On that subject, I'll admit that the summer hardly seems to have improved some moods this year, but at least one person has seen the benefit since the spring equinox.

So, I complain about the heat, never the cold. I can warm up when it's cold but, as some side effect of my size and shape - I'm not exactly petite in scale - and my circulation - in contrast to apparently most women, whose extremities lose circulation at the slightest chill, my mum and I have warm hands almost all the time - I cannot cool down when it's warm. When it's like this and nighttime temperatures are 16-18 degrees, I freeze my hot water bottle to try and keep cool.

I always knew I was a Norman really. The Mountford name on Mum's side gives it away, along with the tendency towards being tall, leggy and broad shouldered that comes from her side of the family - I should be living in Scandinavia!