Cold In My Bones

This mornings edition of BrocanteHome is brought to you from my cozy, feather topped, fleecy-lined bed. Not because I am sick. Or melancholy. But because I got cold in my bones a few days ago and since then I simply cannot get warm.

So I have made three trips upstairs with supplies: my laptop, a tray with huuuge teapot in a cosy cosy, a tin of cinnamon stars, a cherry stone pillow hot from the microwave, and a stack of library books, and I do not intend to move until I can do so without the musical shriek of bones creaking.

This then is my rather self- indulgent plan for getting warm. The Winter sun is shining through old windows wet with condensation and I am wearing a thermal vest and three layers of woollies. Downstairs there is chicken and barley soup simmering in the slow cooker and here in my lovely cream bedroom I have got cinnamon and sandalwood incense burning on every surface, and a vanilla candle glowing on my bedside.

It is my intention to warm all my senses. To fool my body into good behavior. Soon I will close the lid on my laptop and snuggle down with Jimmy the cat and  a Muriel Spark thriller: a little sliver of book I am assured will have my heart racing and my brow sweating in fright. Though I had intended to run out into this damp, cold December and buy the very last Christmas gift on my list today, and then putter around a house sparkly after yesterdays festive scrub, I have instead decided that extreme self-care is in order if I am to survive the rest of the month without dropping, shivering, to my knees, wailing, sniffing and generally incapable…

Eventually of course I will have to break this cosy spell and go and collect Finn from school. One can hardly expect to leave him there because Mummy is a little chilly, so yes eventually I intend to crawl out from my fleece lined envelope, to take a pine-scented bath and  make myself presentable but until then I have got at least three gorgeous, snuggly hours to let a little heat boil up my blood and make these early days of Winter a little more tolerable.

 If only then I didn’t feel so guilty. If only I wasn’t convinced the Christmas police weren’t about to come a-calling and caution me for self-indulgence in a season that is so very rarely about us… 

Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

5 comments on “Cold In My Bones

  1. You. are. so. entitled.. We all are. I love the idea of thinking of my dear English friend all snugly in her bed with laptop, vanilla candles… and the extremely wonderful sense to set a good example for all of us to take care of ourselves, take care of ourselves… Somehow I am again gathered at the feed of “she who would not get up.” I love you.

  2. You have such a positively, lovely plan. You have me considering indulging myself, similarly. I hope it warms you to your tippy toes!

  3. chrissie on said:

    I try to do this but always someone knocks with a parcel or a neighbour will call. Someone will drill or bang whatever ! In annoyance I get out and give it up for a bad job ! Good luck to you though. No guilt life too short.

  4. February in England is as you have described, only colder. Lots of hot fluids, wrapping yourself up snuggly and cosy. Keep moisturised. Pamper yourself as much as you can, I say.

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This