It’s cold. I am cold. The temperature has dropped. We are lucky, they say, lucky that the weather has held out this long, lucky that it has been so mild.
I don’t feel lucky this morning. I put my baby into bed with my husband. My husband could barely open his eyes, while my little boy cheerfully chattered to him as he searched through the covers for his phone. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. It is dark outside the train; I won’t see daylight today. My heart is in that bed, warm, cosy, giggling. My head has already left home; I am dissecting office politics and preparing presentations for disinterested colleagues.
This is my choice. This is my happy.
But today, I am cold.