March, It’s Still Winter In Cumbria.
Even Moz, my up for anything companion, began to complain about the cold. We had been sitting on a sodden Cumbrian bank for over an hour, me drawing, her waiting. Chilled through and with damp bottoms, we headed home. Chris saluted us cheerily with the news that this was the warmest day of the year so far. As I shivered and Moz began to whine, the look on his face told me exactly what he thought of my soft southern sensibilities.
A few days later and twenty four hours of rain and strong winds, of biblical proportions, we had acclimatised! Moz chose to stay by the fire while I went out to draw, wearing two coats and carrying a chunk of foam in a bin bag to sit on.
As we drove home yesterday, the thermometer in the car went from four degrees to fourteen. We have sat about outside all day, in the sun, trying to acclimatise ourselves back, to spring in the south of England.