I spend a fair bit of time travelling in cold climate countries.  The coldest I’ve ever been was in Oslo (Norway) in mid-January, when one night the temperature dipped to -18 C.  I learned that at that temperature it doesn’t matter how many layers you have on, how fast you walk to warm up or how much hot coffee you drink, you’re still cold.  In fact it was so cold in Oslo that when we left and arrived in Bergen (on the west coast of Norway) we actually started stripping off the layers.  It was still -2 C.

Last December Rob and I went to Prague, and whilst it certainly wasn’t as cold as it had been in Oslo I still remember getting to the point where I was fed up with shivering and not being able to feel my feet.  One day, on a particularly long walk to the Bohemians football ground, I threw my toys out of the pram and had a tantrum.  I’m an Aussie, and December is meant to be filled with trips to the beach and sunbathing on the grass in the back yard, not wandering around post-Communist Prague trying to figure out whether my feet are suffering from frost-bite.

Now that I’m back from the UK again, patiently awaiting a letter from the British Consulate to tell me whether or not they will give me a student visa to study at Edinburgh, I’ve realized that Australian winters can be just as nasty as their European counterparts.  I know, I know - Australian winters, cold?  Laughable!  A frosty morning in Queensland, the ’sunshine state’?  I must be joking!  Unfortunately for the ice-blocks that have now replaced my toes, it turns out that winter in Australia can feel as cold as it does in European countries, and it’s our sunny climate that’s to blame.  You see, the majority of Australian buildings aren’t constructed for cold weather, they’re built to be cool, to let in breezes, to make the most of whatever shade is provided by nearby trees, to turn away from hot sunlight instead of towards it.  Our windows are single glaze, we tend to have shutters and blinds instead of curtains, and many of our floors are tiled or wood instead of carpet.  The covers on our beds are summer-weight not winter-weight, and many of our homes have air-conditioners instead of heaters.  The radiators that are so common in each room in every house in Britain simply don’t exist here.  In winter our houses feel cold because they are cold - often they’re only a few degrees warmer than the outside temperature, which in Brisbane can dip below freezing on some nights.  Whilst European countries may have much colder winters in terms of temperatures, when you’re inside with central heating, double glazing, fluffy bed covers and soft carpets you simply don’t notice it.

So next time you come across a hapless Aussie in a northern-hemisphere winter, wading through drifts of snow or chipping icicles of their hair, don’t pity them.  They have serious cold weather experience.

Hi.  Further to my previous post, I am still working working working on Desirable.co.uk.  I’m also completely swamped with writing work which is A. Good. Thing., especially considering Rob and I were up in Edinburgh Wednesday and Thursday just gone looking at places to rent and we now have a better idea of our budget.

Here are some things you’ve missed since I’ve been ignoring you:

• I’ve decided that my musical heroines are Roisin Murphy, Nina from the Cardigans, and Debbie Harry (Blondie).  Also Fran from Travis, but Fran is a man with a female name, so I think he qualifies.
• I have so many books that I want to read and not enough time to do it in.  ‘World Without Us’ by Alan Weisman looks really interesting and if his interview on Radio Five Live is anything to go by it should be a great read.  Also, why can’t Philippa Gregory just release her new novel NOW ALREADY.
• I’m really bummed that Agathe from Style Bytes has decided to hang up her heels and stop blogging.  Or at least, that’s what I’m assuming she’s done - she didn’t blog for a month and then her site was taken down.  Perhaps she was a spy working for the Russian government or something, and she was discovered!  She certainly had the fashion sense of some wonderfully glamorous 1930s-40s spy.
• I’m not sure, but I think it’s quite bad that I like Tennents lager, the much-loved Scottish beer.  Rob gave me a look of disgust when I ordered a pint of it with a spritz of lime cordial.  I think living in Edinburgh will suit me just fine.
• I read the spoilers of the Sex and the City movie on Wikipedia.  Now I understand why reviewers were complaining that it tied the whole story up in a big bow and left nothing to the imagination.  I’ll still go and see it, but I won’t be impressed.
• Every now and then I think I don’t need to read PopJustice anymore, because there’s nothing new for me to learn about the wonderful world of pop music.  Then I realise that I don’t read PopJustice for the music news anyway, I read it for the completely irrelevant statements made by one of my heroes, Peter Robinson.  For example: PopJustice reviews Nelly’s new album, ‘Generally fairly jolly …Expect to see that on some billboard posters sometime soon,’ and then follows this review with the off-hand comment, ‘By the way, did we tell you about the man with five penises? His pants fit him like a glove.’  You just can’t fake such brilliance.
• Rob and I have watched the entire three series of Black Books in two weeks.  It makes me want to see Bill Bailey live, and to have lots of very hairy musically talented children with him.  Also, I’m very tempted to buy the Peep Show box set that’s sort of quite cheap on Amazon at the moment.
• I’m going back to Australia on the 10th of June (Tuesday week) sans Rob.  Rob is not upset about this, because the Euro 2008 Football Finals are starting on the 7th.  I am upset about this, because if I’m going to die in a plane crash I want my other half to die with me.  This may sound cruel but it’s really very romantic.
• I am currently wearing a pair of lemon-yellow socks that have brown, white and red sparkly cupcakes all over them.  A friend found them in TopShop the other day and instantly thought of me.  Am I that transparent?
• I sincerely hope that Sir Wogan doesn’t give up on his Eurovision commentary just yet.  It’s the only reason I watch the finals (well, that’s not really true, I watch it for the awful costumes and even worse songs), and it wouldn’t be the same without him.
• WHY IN GOD’S NAME DID PIM PUT HARRY ‘I’m Injured’ KEWELL AS CAPTAIN FOR THE AUSTRALIA V. IRAQ GAME, AND WHY DID KEWELL CHOOSE TO REMEMBER WHERE THE GOAL WAS AGAIN?  I’m all for Australia winning, but not at the hands of that traitor.

So, as you can see, you haven’t really been missing anything and I am living in a super-inflated bubble of my own self-importance.

Top: Menu mistakes - who serves an apricot tart with green beans and potatoes?

Bottom Left: The Victoria & Albert Museum

Bottom Right: Crockery on sale in the V&A Museum Shop

I’m finally improved from my strange virus which, as it turns out, school children all over North Wales have been suffering from as well. On Tuesday Rob and I journeyed down to London - he had a meeting and I wanted to go shopping and sight-seeing - and we came back late yesterday afternoon. I do dearly love London despite all her ugly quirks (the pollution, the crime, the crowds), but it was nice to hop back on the train yesterday and hear the lilt of Welsh accents.

Tuesday afternoon we caught the tube to Westminster in the vain hope that the Abbey would be open for visitors (it wasn’t). We decided instead to have a pint in a pub we know down the road, which was where we spotted the grave menu mistake you can see in the photo above. I don’t know about you, but when I have dessert it certainly doesn’t come served with vegetables!

Tuesday evening we met up with some old friends who took us to a funky Hungarian/Italian restaurant that had puppets hanging from the ceiling. I ordered the haloumi bruschette, only to be presented with some pieces of haloumi and vegetables on a shishkebab stick. I’m not sure how they came to the conclusion that a bruschette involved skewers.

Wednesday I was on my own as Rob had his meeting, so I caught the tube to Marble Arch and had a wander down the Primark-end of Oxford Street. Then I caught the tube to South Kensington and visited the V&A, one of my favourite museums. I spent a lovely few hours wandering around all the random bits and pieces they have on show there, and then sat out in the V&A courtyard (bottom left of the picture above). The V&A Museum shop is a sight to behold, I found so many things there I wanted including the tea accessories above (bottom right).

We then caught the train back up - it’s four hours from London to North Wales - and watched St Petersburg trounce Rangers in the UEFA final last night. I have so much work it’s coming out my ears and we’ve got a busy weekend ahead - help!