"Baby, it's cold outside...". I don't know whether I should slip a pair of gloves and jam a hat on, my extremities are numbing up (numbing up, numbing down; I don't know, there's either a pair of brave new terms been carved out there, or two solecisms to break the heart).

Last week, it was like living in St Tropez. Now, it's so cold, I would n't miss a heart beat if I heard on the radio that polar bears had been spotted near Regents Park, or packs of wolves were skittering over the snow chasing express trains. And with that wind out there, racing around the chimney pots, you never know what could happen.

It's become so cold I can feel my stubble breaking out - I only shaved a few hours ago - maybe it's evolutionary, an emergency beard to fight the cold.

I'm in a house as well where I don't know how to turn the heating on. Not my house - I'm house sitting, but firing up the central heating when it's nearly June. Please.