Winter is twinkly lights and capes and roasted chestnuts and gravy and stews. Winter is skinny black jeans and dishevelled boots and chaotic hair and sex panda eye make-up. It is not shimmery gloss and flip flops. Winter is let’s huddle up at home at 4pm because it’s dark outside and why not, I’ll make mash and pour me a Baileys, babe. Summer is too much pressure, too much high pitched squeals, too much forced fun. It’s blockbusters that are too loud and too long and music festivals rammed with people off their heads eating candy floss and wearing ‘I’m mad, me’ hats.
