I think I can say, without fear of contradiction, that it's cold. Really, really cold. It takes the breath away and replaces it with a wheezing, rasping thing instead.
In short, it's sodding freezing.
I'm surprised at how surprised everyone's acting, though. We live in a small island surrounded by cold water, quite a long way away from the Equator. It's late November. So, yes, folks it's going to be a bit on the chilly side. Being bewildered about is either (a) taking the mick, or (b) suggesting that you have medium term memory issues.
As I was walking into the venue for the Christmas Ball last night, there were some people leaving from another event. I don't know how long they'd been there - months, perhaps - because they were without coats. And as they walked out they all reacted as one.
"Golly gosh," they chorused, "it's a bit parky, and no mistake."
Or words to that effect.
Katie and me, we've just got on with it. There's the daily scraping of the car windscreen, or in my case the squirting of industrial-strength chemicals and hoping for the best. We have finally found Setting Number Five on our boiler, the level we thought was there for a joke, or for the Scandinavian markets, when we first moved in all those years ago. The cat goes out to do what cats do when they go out, only to come back very quickly with a thoughtful expression on his face.
I think he's now storing things up until March. Enjoy your lunch, by the way.
As I sit here, lap being gently warmed by one of Acer's finest overheating CPUs, I'm aware that our friends are out, doing wintry things. Some of them went out for a walk this morning. I'm sure it was exhilarating. Strolling through the frosty Warwickshire countryside on a fresh, sharp November morning is one of those life-affirming experiences you look back on with fondness. And frostbite, probably.
I'll finish with this - a real conversation we've just had.
Katie: My feet are getting nice and toasty.
Me: That'll be those slippers you've got.
Katie: Mmm yes. You know what? It's a pity you can't get slippers for your hands.
Me: Allow me to introduce you to the novel concept of gloves.
(P.s. - for those of you who'd come back for StainWatch 2010, I'm pleased to report that I did not spill anything down myself last night. I did, however, manage to put one shirt cuff down on some red wine, which left a lovely pink blob. Really, I shouldn't be let out on my own).