If ifs and buts were candy and nuts

Temperature: Last day of January and we’ve had exactly one afternoon with below 0/32 degrees and several record-breaking days with 5/41 to 10/50 temps this winter. No skiing or skating, and no walking on water because the sea won’t freeze. There’s still February, but so far, we’ve had three seasons instead of four in these southern parts of the north. And the flora and fauna have absolutely lost the plot; a harbinger of things to come at an accelerating pace. Yes, I gripe about winter and how I like warmth, but I agreed to the terms and weather conditions when I said “I do.” No one should do what Russia is doing and say they’ll look at the bright side, adapt, take advantage when it comes to the climate crisis. Jesus effing Christ, there’s a threshold for human adaptability and going along is a race to that threshold.

Eating: falafels, in a minute.

Drinking: lemon tea with a dollop of honey and not a drop of milk, thanks.

Watching: Sanditon 

Listening: Who is this Billie Eilish you all speak of? Yes, I’ve heard of BE. No, I haven’t really listened to BE, not properly. About to correct that, promise.

Reading: The madness of crowds: gender, race and identity by Douglas Murray.

Writing: I write to you all the time, sweetie darlings. But you never write me back, you miscreants! Something better to do, have you? For shame!

Thinking: Ta-ta, Britain, sincerely sorry to see you go. Let the best of your past be the worst of your future.

Feeling: A tinge of wanderlust mixed with both happy and sad memories. I dreamt I was in Singapore again. Not sure what prompted that particular location, unless it has something to do with my mother-in-law’s death two years ago. Singapore is where I was between her final breath and funeral, a trip that couldn’t be postponed or cancelled. And like any dutiful mother, wife and daughter-in-law, I felt bad for not being of much help during that period, but my father-in-law wasn’t alone, he was with family, with everyone trying to pitch in and help him cope despite their personal loss and grief. And it is astounding the amount of red tape and paperwork you’re supposed to handle chop-chop in a cool-headed manner when all your head is good for is crying into a pillow or shoulder. (My father-in-law, on the phone, February 2018: “I did okay today. I went 90 minutes without bursting into tears.”) Oh, life. Cruel, crazy, beautiful life.