It's officially the greyest winter here since WWII. Seriously. This morning I got up and took a look outside to watch R's red anorak vanish in the mist and then I said my three words to the cat and crawled back into bed.  For just a little bit longer.

Some day soon, maybe, we will open the windows again, any time we want, and listen to the birds and kids and cats outside. At least that's the idea. Spring etc.

Whereas winter has me inside this dark cave. I fuss about with blankets and shawls and steaming tea and obsess about the cleanliness of the floor tiles in the kitchen. If this continues I will become a recluse. Of sorts. The daily struggle to get out of this house is just that, a struggle. Not only because of all the wrapping up. 

I know near to nothing about social evolution but I think humans are meant to live in small groups not herds of a million or more. Come to think of it we are probably also meant to communicate on a one-to-one basis. Or something like that. I remember reading somewhere that young babies are able to communicate simultaneously with a maximum of three people. At the moment I am down to a maximum of two, provided there are few background noises and I am not tired.