Later on, we’ll conspire, as we dream by the fire

Over at Poneke, they’ve been talking about the joys of winter.  Aside from the just insane coolness of the author of one of my favourite books commenting over there, it is nice to see people actually enjoying the season.

Granted, here in Welly, we’ve been doing pretty well this winter - it’s felt a lot like christchuch with cold, crisp, sunny mornings, and not a lot of wind, but even so, winter has its joys too. 

Sure, there’s no sitting out in the sun with a gorgeous pinot gris and some mates, but there is sitting inside in front of a fire with a spactacular red, and a book.  There’s casseroles and bread and butter pudding, and oh yes, roast dinners.

Have I told you I cook maybe the best roast chicken you’ll ever taste?  No.  Oh, well, I do.  And no, you can’t have any.  It’s a variation on this recipe, and when I was once asked what I do to make a roast meal so good, I replied “a judicious application of fat”. Anyway, winter is an excuse for me to cook more roasts. Seriously – that chicken?  When you first put it in the oven, and open the door a few minutes later, it smells like onions, garlic and bacon frying in butter.  Which could be the best smell ever.

There’s also vegetable soup, and pumpkin soup and crumpets. And good grany smiths, to eat, and to make crumble and all kinds of wintery food you don’t want in summer.  I don’t personally like them, but I’m told mashed potatoes are good at this time of year (I know, it’s wierd, don’t start).

And is there anything nicer, than lying in bed, warm and cosy, wrapped in a duvet, and listening to the rain?

Except maybe embracing your inner child and running through fallen leaves and jumping in puddles.

Or walking along a freezing and windswept beach, and then warming up with mulled wine, or just really hot tea.

There’s rugby (it’s still technically a winter sport, right?) and netball and basketball, and cricket from England in the middle of the night - where it looks like winter anyway.

Tights, and long skirts, and knee high boots and scarves and hats and knee high socks.  An excuse to wear knitwear.  I can get out the glovelies. 

My skin might be dry, and my hair might be frizzy, but who cares?  I can go home, pour myself a baileys, and sink into a hot bath for hours, and then into my be-flannelled bed.

It’s the one time of year it’s ok to be my natural colour – deathly pale. And when wearing red lipstick looks great, rather than just slutty.

So yeah, I love winter. So far I am enjoying it, this year.  What do you like about winter?