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It’s easy enough to understand The Mom’s desperate desire to spruce up her wardrobe given the winter they’ve had back home. Whilst I was home over Christmas, we had -42C and even though I was only there for three weeks, my experience of winter – proper winter mind, not British winter – was long enough. I couldn’t imagine having to put up with snowstorm after snowstorm, blizzard upon blizzard, whiteouts, wind chill and the general, unrelenting funk of winter. Just this weekend, when I spoke to The Mom, she was swaddled in blankets, yanking her turtle neck up to her chin and shivering.

I think I mentioned that England was enjoying 15C and sun at least once. It may have been twice. Anymore than that would’ve been cruel.

The thing is, without enduring the depths of a full-on, old school Canadian winter spring is, well it’s not bad or unwanted, but it doesn’t have that sort of holiday atmosphere that it does back home. The freedom that a balmy -5C or even a 3C above zero affords and the lightness of spirit that goes with it.

The winter over here has been not without its difficulties, namely most of the country has been under several feet of water since sometime before Christmas, but London managed to escape the worst of it (thank you Thames Barrier!). We had gloomy days, cold days, and rain, but no snow, no minus temperatures and a very early spring. This morning I had to get up at the crack of dawn to go swimming outside, because it’s sunny today and the mercury promises to rise to around 18C. This probably means we’ll have snow at Easter and the summer will also hover around 18C if we’re lucky, but still, make hay while the sun shines and all that.

Strangely, I too have been feeling the pull of the warmer temperatures and the sunshine and have found myself lurking around shops during my lunchbreak. But unlike The Mom, I’ve not had much in the way of luck. The idea of me featuring a bright pink coat is utterly ludircous. Though, H&M did have a bright canary yellow coat that did catch my eye. But it was heavy, suited for a cooler moment and so I abstained.

Spring to me means fresh new clothes in navy, preferrably a navy and white striped something or other. Which I mentioned to The Mom this weekend when we spoke.

She rolled her eyes, as I’d predicated and commented, as I’d imagined she would that everything I own is either navy or navy and white striped.

“I know!” I chriped. “Nothing like consistency!”

“Dullard!” she shouted from beneath her layers.

But then she rather sullenly mumbled something about her new pink coat purchase being wildly optimistic.

“More in keeping with the weather I’m getting over here,” I said.

She scowled at me. I knew I was pushing my luck.

“In fairness, you guys don’t get spring so much anymore. One day it’ll be a blizzard, then the next day, 15C, the day after 20C and then bam! Hot. I don’t know why you bothered to buy the coat.”

She glared at me. “Yes, well perhaps you can borrow it. Take it back with you when you visit in the summer, because you’ll still need a coat over there… in August.”