Chilly this morning; crisp even. Walking down to the tube station at Whetstone I was musing on the possible need to break out my scarf in the near future though not , as yet, a coat (Big and tough, me; not like these wimpy southerners). It’s far too early for a coat unless there is a rapid and concerted drop in temperatures. Though pleasant in the morning, by evening the tube is still much too warm and a coat would be more trouble than it’s worth. Anyway, it is not as if I am out in the weather for very long anyway. Five minutes maximum at the central London end, five to ten minutes at the Whetstone end. My tough and manly Salopian physique (hem, hem) can cope with that.
That said, I seem to developing a cold. Or rather one of those nearly colds that contrives to clog your nose and sinuses, make you sneeze occasionally and make your throat feel a little rough but not downright sore. I don’t feel quite ill, I don’t feel quite well: sort of in the middle; it is very hard properly to feel sorry for myself in these circumstances.
That said, I seem to developing a cold. Or rather one of those nearly colds that contrives to clog your nose and sinuses, make you sneeze occasionally and make your throat feel a little rough but not downright sore. I don’t feel quite ill, I don’t feel quite well: sort of in the middle; it is very hard properly to feel sorry for myself in these circumstances.