Saturday, 22 November 2008

Cold, colder coldest.

There is discussion in our house about whether or not it is cold. For teenagers who do not need to wear a coat to school and those who grew up in Cumbria, it is not cold. The dog is growing a winter shagginess and doesn't seem too bothered. I, however, am frozen. It is hard to write when your fingers and toes feel like they're being nipped at and it makes it tricky to play the Ukulele.
I have a few chords now and am speeding up moving between them. The mouse has yet to inspire a story but I think he will. I'm pretty sure he will.