Wear long-sleeved anxiety, pretend to yourself you’re a snow leopard, and scream to get the blood flowing
Well done us. We’ve bloody made it. We have arrived, to suckle afresh at the bitter nipple of 2021, its milk iced. It is fitting that a year’s extremities, its Januaries and Decembers, happen also to be its coldest; over the last months we have come to realise a year, like a body, can be dry and plodding, and fat in all the wrong places.
I have become obsessed with staying warm. I have become obsessed with cosiness, with the task of keeping myself at a convenient temperature, whether walking the baby beneath pissing winds or watching a lone reveller through the window on New Year’s Eve. “Happy new year!” he wept, and I mournfully tucked the fleece around the landscape of my thighs. My specialist subject has become “blankets of the internet”. I have four opinions about slippers. And now a good season into Project Warmth, I am delighted to share with you my tips.