The wind is up. It’s got all the dogs barking and the whole village is rattling about, with bits threatening to go flying off. It makes me appreciate just how exposed we are out here. It seems to be coming from the north-east, which might explain why it’s so bloody freezing. A couple of hours ago that wind was picking up speed across Siberia.
I went out for a walk this morning. The first half was fine. I fairly flew along. I was wearing my big coat and felt pretty confident that if I leapt in the air and held my arms out I would’ve covered a good fifty yards or more. Coming back was more of a struggle and took at least an extra half an hour. I heaved into it with my shoulders, like a sumo wrestler. And found myself getting quite irate. At one point I got so worked up, I heard myself swearing into the teeth of the wind. Although who or what precisely was the focus of my ire was not immediately clear to me.
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I’ve extended my little lease for another week or so. Hopefully by then I’ll be right as rain. If not, I shall demand compensation. I shall sue.
Conjuring up a proper hot bath is still proving to be a gargantuan effort. I now have the heater switched on right round the clock, and when I feel the need to immerse myself in hot water coming upon me, I fill the kettle and put a pan on every hob. You should see that electricity meter spin.
But sooner or later there comes a point when you have to commit and actually turn the bath’s tap on. The most I’ve managed is three lots of pans and kettles in with the bathwater. Any more is just too much traipsing up and down the stairs. This morning, as I stood over the cooker, waiting for the last round of pans to come to the boil, I began to wonder whether the water already in the bath wasn’t actually cooling quicker than the water I was heating up.