Year in, year out, the seasons change. Perhaps one summer seems to last a little longer than the one previous, sometimes the autumn colours burst ahead of time, but always we can count on the seasons to cycle every three months. And come June, when crisp air is replaced with plainly cold, it should hardly surprise us. This is what happens. This is the nature of things. This is nature.

So it seems preposterous that winter should bring me to my knees and yet it does, every single time. Was I a bear in my previous life, cave-dwelling and slumbering away the worst of winter’s misery? From April, I rather expertly cultivate an extra layer, perfectly suited for hibernation.

I’m not a bear though. I am a mum and a wife and in general, a person who must do all the person-type things. Life goes on, cold or no. My instincts tell me to cocoon myself in doonas and watch reality television but who would pick up the children from school?

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again; I need a nanny. A winter nanny. Or chauffeur. I need my own personal Uber. And chocolate pudding with double cream.

I need a nap.

My days seem to drag. I don’t feel blue necessarily but stuck. I am uninspired and lethargic. I can barely lift a hand to write let alone exercise. I am in quicksand.

It’s time to climb on out.

To my credit, I have been managing to venture outside on occasion. It goes against my very nature to be in nature but I’ve been trying. My children seem impervious to winter’s sad spell and thank goodness for that. So we headed off to a winter solstice which to my mind was glorified camping but which the kids seemed to adore. I took the liberty of drinking 3 sparkling wines and that did help to soften the blow of sitting in a fold up chair stuck in the mud as a light rain fell upon my mohair beanie. That sounds more romantic than it was. Later as they lit the bonfire, you might have caught a glimpse of me smiling in the glow, bluegrass tunes cutting through the frigid air. Good times. But cold times. Cold and wet.

You can heat up the wine and make the bonfire pretty but it's still camping….

Then it was school holidays and we visited a local farm on a day when the weather could only be described as polar. If Siberia has a farm with chickens and goats, I know what it feels like to go there. For the record, it doesn’t feel good. And yet, I had fun in spite of myself. Especially after I told Luca he would never be able to catch a chicken and then he caught a chicken. I was supremely proud until I read the sign that said holding chickens makes them feel very anxious. Sorry, chicken sisters, I know anxiety and I am very sorry we took you to that dark place on this cold day.

At home on the farm. Chicken now in therapy. 

And to maximise our enjoyment of glacial conditions, we went to the ultimate winter destination; the beach. TWICE. I’m not going to lie, even in the winter, the ocean is a thing of beauty and the beach is a wonderland for kids. So I don’t regret it. I just look forward to visiting again when a bikini and a drink with a little umbrella are also appropriate.

My wildlings

Cracking day at the beach. Zero degrees but cracking nonetheless.

Onward and upward, friends. Life is for living. Even when you can’t feel your toes. I even went out on a freezing Friday night to see live music! It felt so wrong to leave the nest but so right once I was out and doing it. It's so easy to become comfortable. But we can be comfortable when we're dead. Life is passing me by.

With this in mind, I have headed back to training at Cinch. I haven’t been since April…or was it March? Long time. Long enough to be soft in all the wrong places.