January is such a wanky month, isn’t it. Winter in general for me is just not the one – all the extra layers add to the illusion that I may infact be the Michelin man, and having to toast my hands when I get home just so I can feel them again is just not ideal.
There are some (perhaps mentally instable) people among us, however, who love it. They can’t wait for the summer days of sticky tube rides and frivolous late-night sunset boozing to be over so they can get out their winter woolies and experience the joy of wrapping up against the harsh winds (weather bomb, anyone?). Continue reading “how to enjoy a skiing holiday if you’re shit at skiing”
As hard as we try to avoid it, winter comes along once a year and brings with it a massive batch of horrible colds. For the less-than-graceful among us (me), that means a week of sniffling, complaining loudly to anyone who will listen and sometimes even some crocodile tears to persuade people to do stuff for me.
The way in which us Brits handle a cold is hilarious. It’s like man-flu for everyone; we all know it’s nothing serious but we still act like our world is ending. I’ve actually just recovered from one such cold (just in time for New Year’s beveraging, get in). It was the usual story, waking up feeling like some wanker has filled your head with cotton wool while you were in the land of nod. Continue reading “words of wisdom for people who can’t handle a cold (like me)”