So far this winter I have spent a fair bit of time complaining about how mild it is.  We had a bit of a cold snap early December but really until a week ago it was fierce mild and pretty damp.  I am highly suspicious of mild damp winters for a number of completely illogical reasons, namely:
• A mild winter will mean a mild damp summer.. in other words temperatures a few degrees warmer but with grey skies and lots of rain.  Geraniums rotting in their pots and very little eating in the garden.
• A mild damp winter is very unhealthy.  I always feel that we need a crisp cold winter to kill off winter bugs (like coughs and colds and the like).  Was it only in my world that there seemed to be a lot of ill people over Christmas?  I don’t think so.
• Mild winters confuse nature and so things that shouldn’t be budding getting ahead of themselves.  Confusion in nature couldn’t be a good idea.

So I have been waiting for the cold and am relieved that it is now with us.  During the last couple of days I have watched as the UK has been turned into an Arctic wonderland and have had to subdue the jealousy.  Various parts of Ireland have also had some snowfall but so far none in my corner of the world.

Today is the third Monday of January which supposedly is the most depressing day of the year due to its distance from the festivities of Christmas, the weather and extra debt.  This is baloney in my opinion – any day is what we make it.

But that said, I am tired.  What makes me tired at this time of the year is getting up in the dark.  We’ve been at it for months now and it’s hard.   So when it snowed this morning I was delighted.  “Keep it up” I whispered to Mother Nature, “and make it heavier”.  I was overcome with a huge urge to shoo the children back to bed and declare a duvet day due to heavy snowfall.  Needless to say it wasn’t to be.

We should change the way we do things in winter by working shorter hours.  Wouldn’t it be great if we began work at 10am and finished at 4pm for the months of November, December and January?  February is the beginning of spring and by then we would be rested like the rest of nature and ready to burst forth and be productive again.

So if I ruled the country I would sort out our working and school hours to work with nature and this planet we live on….. and not against it.

That done I would then move on another and not unrelated matter.  As I said I firmly believe that a mild winter means that there are far more bugs to be caught; flu, colds, coughing, sneezing, high temperature and moaning.  It’s awful being sick.  But it is almost worse to share your life and your bed with someone who is sick.

Now bear with me here… I am about to make one of my famous sweeping generalisations but I have done some research on this… with my female friends.  The result of that research is this…
• Women hate sharing a bed with a sick partner
• Men aren’t bothered at all.

I like my bed.  I like my bedroom.  It is my haven.  My sanctuary.  It is a place that I willingly share with himself EXCEPT when he is a coughing, spluttering mess with a temperature.  Then I hate it.

When he is sick I spend the night hanging off my side of the bed, facing away from the overheated mess beside me who is contaminating the bedclothes with his germs.  And who is oblivious to my discomfort.  And who, I might add, if the roles were reversed would have no problem sharing the bed with me.

So…. my second task would be to make a law that sick men who share a bed with a woman should make alternative arrangements when they are sick.  They can sleep in their car, the shed, the bath or go to a hotel or hospital…. but matrimony does not confer the right to their female partner’s bed when they are ill!  Love is NOT HAVING TO SHARE YOUR BED WITH A SICK PARTNER.

Finally and again on a not unrelated subject I want to know who was the bright spark who decided that bathrooms should also house the toilet?

I grew up in a suburban house which was built in the late 50s and we had a separate toilet.  Bathroom housed the bath and wash basin and the toilet were next door.  Now I will admit that there was no wash basin in the loo but that was before we were so fussy about washing ones hands.  But broadly it was a far better idea.

A bathroom is where one makes oneself clean..  It is where one showers or bathes for long periods of time.  Is should be a place of scented candles and bubbles AND SHOULD NEVER SMELL OF POO.

But worse that all this is that I recently learned that every time you flush the loo thousands (or maybe millions) of bacteria and germs splash back invisibly all over the bathroom.  Onto your fluffy bath towel, into your bath BUT WORSE OF ALL ONTO YOUR TOOTH BRUSH…  AGGHHHHH

A toilet should be just that.  In a room by its very own self.  With a small washbasin purely for washing paws. And if I was in charge I would immediately offer a grant to anyone who wished to have their toilet separated from their bathroom.

 I am sure men are behind the toilet and bathroom all together thing!  They haven’t a clue.

Well that’s made me feel better… my perfect world coming more into focus…

I hope it may have cheered you up on this most depressing day of the year!!  I’ll let you know when I run for office!!!