Nowhere to go...

Half term is looming and it is, unbelievably the first time I can remember when I am not travelling...anywhere. Zilch, nowhere to go. I normally dutifully make the pilgrimage to Mothers, the blow softened by the location which is currently York. She is sadly not holding her breath for me and is staying with a friend instead. Sod her, London it is.
What to do?
I may try to catch up with reading, but it is sooo unremittingly bloody cold, so going out anywhere for the day is going to be painful and very expensive if Leyla comes. The gym too could be an option, the foot is close to normality and some flab could be shed.
I could rearrange my wardrobe, I ache to wear some lighter clothes but with temperatures barely raising their head above zero what is the point? Maybe I could take the dog on a really really long walk, what ever I do I will feel robbed.

BTW Cos has loads of new stuff in, I was not seduced by the grey top, it was too thin and had drapey sleeves. Many peripheral things dictate what I wear. My job, the weather, you name it, it will impact on me. I am particularly vulnerable to dropping stuff down myself. Not quite as spectacularly as my mother or sister, but when I look at something swinging from a hanger I try to imagine it after I have spilt yogurt down the front, splashed fat on the hem whilst cooking and dipped my sleeve in paint.
Sleeves are my forte, you name it I will have dipped my sleeve in it. Emin is constantly rolling them up for me when I am cooking, I believe if I were to ever be stranded on a desert island all I would have to do is soak my sleeves in hot water and I would have an instant nutritional broth that would sustain me for weeks.
So to this end I dismissed the floaty light grey chiffon, and instead swooned over and purchased the heavy huge pocketed swirly tunic, with bracelet sleeves, very very gallerina and very, very practical.
I watched half of September issue on Sunday and I was struck by the one small nugget of inside info that had not occurred to me before. It is very hard to photograph black clothes. You can see why Grace Coddington was so pissed off all the time. We all love black but because they don't look as good as colours they are constantly shunned.
To this end I have made myself a promise, I must get back to drawing for what i wore today drawing then you can all marvel at my fabulous big pocket top.