The scene: the office at lunch time on a crisp autumn day.
My Portuguese colleague: I have a terrible dilemma.
Me: What’s that?
Her: I want to go for a walk.
Me: Well then go, for heaven’s sale.
Her: I can’t. It’s too cold. I will die.
I never cease to be amazed by those people you see swathed in scarves in the stuffy Brussels metro on a warm summer’s day. What do they wear in winter, I wonder?
I’m always hot, except for my extremities. I have an office in a glorified shed at the bottom of my garden; it’s heated but, as an extra precaution, I have an electric foot warmer. I’m also thinking of investing in a pair of USB heated fingerless gloves (only four pounds from Amazon) as a Xmas present to myself.
How long has she been in Ireland, exactly?
I never cease to be amazed by those people you see swathed in scarves in the stuffy Brussels metro on a warm summer’s day. What do they wear in winter, I wonder?
I’m always hot, except for my extremities. I have an office in a glorified shed at the bottom of my garden; it’s heated but, as an extra precaution, I have an electric foot warmer. I’m also thinking of investing in a pair of USB heated fingerless gloves (only four pounds from Amazon) as a Xmas present to myself.
Am I officially old?
Since January. She found the summer mediocre. Oh how we laughed.
Must look up USB fingerless gloves. Mr Waffle is always too warm, I am always too cold. It’s a tragedy.