Winter’s arrived a bit early round here, and we’re blanketed in snow (OneMonkey’s parents are more like buried in snow, living so near the coast). It looks magical, and the world’s muffled as it only ever is when it’s snowy, but I’m too cold to write! I have so many layers on it’s ridiculous and we’ve had endless hot drinks all weekend but it’s not that comfortable staying still for very long, which means reading and writing aren’t attractive ideas, particularly at my bureau which is next to a large window. I’ve been doing housework to keep warm (no really, I have), turning story ideas over in my head all the while. From the point of view of photography, or possibly story inspiration (and certainly for peace and quiet) the weather’s fabulous, but I might have to break out the fingerless gloves and my purple pashmina if I want to sit down and concentrate on writing.