27 November 2010


I love the cool feel of this New Orleans doorstep, captured on a day where the temperature and humidity were high enough (and the exercise of ambling around strenuous enough) to send rivulets of sweat down my back and into my waistband.
A handful of weeks later, back at home, today the temperature is not forecast to go above freezing point, suitable for wrapping up in scarf and gloves and visiting the first day of the Weihnachtsmarkt and the first Glühwein of the year.  Outside the leaves are limp, those on the bushes with cold, and those on the ground sodden with yesterdays snow.  My Aran jumper, knitted twenty years before as a student in Bradford, is fished out of the cupboard in honour of the start of Winter with a capital 'W'.
The underfloor heating, turned up in my bathroom, bathes my toes after the shower.  Like walking on a beach under the evening sun.  But it is not so easy to imagine myself there, I cup my hands around the coffee and wait for the sun to come up.
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