This is the time of year it hits like a virus – domesticity is upon me once again! There is no doubt why the infection happens; when the cold snaps, I spend my entire waking life focussed on preventing my body from going into legitimate shock.
I wear six or seven layers of clothing, keep my pockets and mittens stuffed with heating devices, and clutch a hot water bottle nestled in faux fur to my person whenever feasible.
When I talk about the dangers of cold, I’m not exaggerating. My right arm in particular turns a peculiar shade of blue and loses all sensation except the darting, needle-sharp pain of a deep freeze. When one arm goes the rest rapidly falls, until there is no way to raise my core temperature aside from complete immersion in hot water. This, of course, is not convenient on the boat – so I try to avoid the contingency.
Mostly throughout the year I can be found standing in odd corners reading books, and when pressed for anything beyond boat maintenance point out mildly that I do not cook, or clean, or care. This is true – I have not only a job but also a social life, and you know what? I like it when other people cook for me. Even if I have to pay.
But for three short months of the year my hands are so horrifically cold there is no better place to stick them but a sink of scalding hot water. Clean dishes! Clear sink! Oh, what next? Do I cook normally? Why no! Though at certain times of the year I look for every possible excuse to keep the stove cranked up… leading to such wild flights of fancy as (old-fashioned rare breed) apple crumble baked in fruit shaped ramekins!
