All the energy spent in the battle of the sexes has left me weak and trembling.
The fact that it's below zero in my flat may also be partly responsible but I'm sticking to my exhausting heroic contribution.
Although, it is a fact, electric heating is worth nothing against disjointed, single-glazed windows.
So here I am sitting, slumped more like, on the couch, huddled in layers and layers of clothes, plus some kind of poncho, plus a blanket. I'm scared to go to bed, because that means having to change into a flimsy nightie.
It's going to be flannel jammies, but never you mind.
I'll be dreaming not of a white christmas, god no, but of white-sand beaches, blue seas, yellow suns (yeah several, I am very cold), red bloody marys, and whatever is orange (not my tan). Something green would be nice, but the only thing I can think of right now is dollars, and it's no use fantasising, is it?