froze

I had a memorable conversation with Jayne a few weeks ago.

"Do you think the weather will as bad this winter as last," she asked?

"Nah, no way," I replied, "and anyway, it's not even winter yet."

Famous last words.

Very, very cold in Liverpool at the moment. I went out to de-ice the cars, like I've been doing for the past week it seems, and yesterday the temperature was a blisteringly hot minus eight.

The night before, I went out on a night-time bike ride that had more to do with relieving my anger about Liverpool losing to Spurs, than keeping fit. It was BITTERLY cold and even after I got home, the relative warmth of the house was a fallacy because heat could never really penetrate the arctic conditions we found ourselves battling against.

Luckily, we've only had a dusting of snow in Liverpool. That happened overnight, but the snow quickly froze to ice, and the side roads, at least, are treacherous.

To readers in Singapore, you're probably wondering what the fuss is all about. To readers in Siberia you're probably wondering what the fuss is all about too!

Us Brits have a reputation for being very "stiff upper lip". It's nonsense. We moan about absolutely EVERYTHING, and the tiniest detail that goes awry in our sheltered lives becomes a gaping wound, overflowing with puss, that near shatters our resolve to get on.

Personally, I'm not arsed anymore. Not a lot surprises me now. Life's too short to be small.