The week before Christmas

The sky outside my window is a uniform greyish-white. The road and pavements are damp with moisture from the fog and overnight dew, and the temperature barely claws its way above zero. There is little incentive to venture outside.

Inside, triggered by the thermostat, the central heating clicks on and the radiators warm up, meaning I stay toasty in my tracksuit bums and tee-shirt. The lights on the christmas tree glow and fade at regular intervals, bringing a cozy atmosphere to the living room. The cat is going whizzy, scampering from one room to the next in frenzied bursts, apparently also frustrated by the weather.

I'm bored. Or is that obvious?

There is such a thing as having too much holiday.