It's winter.
We hit the first of June and suddenly the temperature plummeted: now the car takes forever to warm up, my eyeballs freeze and fall out on the walk from car to ferry, my nose may be frost-bitten, and flannelette pyjamas are proven yet again to be the greatest invention in the history of humanity.
So we're having a Slow Food festival here this weekend, with my world-famous-in-New-Zealand thick minestrone, lamb shanks and mash, and my girlfriend's having a glass of red before dinner.
There may even be pudding.
Desperate measures for desperate times.
PS It's very boring being a non-drinker in winter. I'd rather be dehydrated than have yet another glass of cold water. I might sulk instead.
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