the cold seeps through

Melbourne has caused me to rethink 'acclimatise'. The word is not the same as 'assimilate', as I found out as the coldness of the temperate winter seeps into the new season, and seeps through a 44kg body used to a tropical climate.

Autumn, with its ubiqitous fallen leaves, was beautiful and balmy. I cockily thought I could survive the next season as it gradually turned colder. The Melburnian winter, though by no means harsh, was unbearably cold - below my horrorfreeze threshold - on some days. It is hard to describe; it would have to be experienced, to be felt.

The arid wintry cold is so drying that it crusts up a sandwich in a matter of minutes, and makes my otherwise plump lips cracked and chapped. As I tap on my keyboard and type this post, my fingers feels like how it would be if I stick them in the freezer for two minutes, only I didn't do that. The atmosphere, the air, was enough to chill my fingers, toes, nose, and sometimes brain. The frosty weather and a limpid consiousness seem to be synonymous. I just want to be lazied up and warmed up, and do nothing else except slump in front of a heater. Even that gives me an odd sensation - my limbs are getting their surfaces burned by the direct heat, but the bones are still cold from the inside. This is what a popsicle must feel like when a warm tongue licks it.

On the more toasty side, I finally have smoky breath, and an electric blanket. Both are presents, from nature, and a kindred friend.