when to bed, curling up in a tiny pool of warm sheets and soft bedding, atop a well comfortable mattress, i feel in sheer heaven. indulging in that trusted mass of cotton, wool and expectation is a thing to look forward to every night.
when i commute, i like to cuddle up against my warm winter coat (embellished with fake fur), and i sigh and feel blessed for another hour of doing absolutely nothing, or doing exactly what i want and how i want it, taking in account the other commuters, naturally.
and winter evenings find me hugging my settee, wrapping myself tight in a few crocheted blankets. there's one for different moods. i find myself drawn to blues and greens in the evenings, dozing in the extravagant company of dickensian character.
before i take up another wint'ry walk wading through muddy pools, climbing a soaky slope, scrambling underneath rusty wire... the cycle being the anticipation of coming home to a warm blanket and a cuppa. the comfort. the luxury. cocoon! X and blues for patrice!