Except in his very old age, when he could never get warm, my father would never allow the weather to be described as ‘cold’. “Fresh!” is how he would correct my professions to its being cold.
I thought about this as the promised cold snap kicked in today. I’m dutifully reminding myself it’s ‘fresh’ – and, indeed, it isn’t overly cold; it’s just that November so far has been so extremely mild, that we notice the contrast (and the blue skies and demise of gales and hailstorms are very welcome). It will be a month or two yet before it turns – well – um – bitterly fresh! That’s when I really will feel …
I’m as cold as a polar bear’s pyjamas.
I’m as cold as frozen chips.
If you don’t believe it’s true
Then look at the blue
Of my ice-cold shivering lips.