I really feel the cold. It seems to penetrate to my marrow and once I am cold, it takes a very long time for me to warm up again. The cold makes me feel miserable and pessimistic. Naturally, I don’t like any of this and therefore anticipate the winter with an emotional gloom to suit the meteorological gloom.
As soon as the cold begins to bite, I respond by adding layers of clothing. I probably look like the Michelin Man but I don’t care as long as it mitigates the misery of the cold. I don’t understand women who go about in winter with short skirts and legs protected only by stockings or, worse still, those who expose their midriff to the elements.
There is a weak spot in the male armour against cold: trouser legs. You can pile on as many layers as you like above the waist and but you have only one layer covering the legs and the legs go on radiating away the heat. Tigger finally persuaded me to buy a pair of “long johns”. We found a sweet old fashioned clothes shop in Westgate-on-Sea that sells mainly women’s clothes but has a collection of men’s underwear as well. “My boys wear these as pyjamas,” the manageress confided with a complicitous smile, handing me a transparent packet containing a pair of blue thermal long pants. At £5.99 a pair, it was worth a try.
Since wearing them, I haven’t looked back. They are a size larger than I normally wear because I know from experience that that is the only way to get the leg length I need. I can pull them well up over my midriff and they still reach to my ankles so I can tuck them into my socks. Bliss! I now face the cold with something approaching equanimity.