I don't like the cold. I'll admit, there is some satisfaction in curling up on the couch with the heater on and my Snuggie keeping me cosy, but all in all I do detest cold weather.
In fact, it is one of the main reasons I moved to Brisbane. You see, I grew up on the Darling Downs near Toowoomba. We lived on a farm, and the area frequently competes with Stanthorpe every year for the lowest temperatures in the whole of Queensland. Many a morning did I layer up for school in pants, jackets, gloves and beanies to walk the 500m to our front gate and catch the bus in temperatures less than 5 degrees.
I think I only realised just how cold winters were there when I went to Thailand. I travelled there in May, and reveled in the 34 degree days with crippling humidity (all part of the holiday experience, you understand). But then I had to come home to June on the Darling Downs, and the change in seasons was nothing short of shocking!
I had visited my friend B in Brisbane over the years and certainly it didn't even seem to get cold there. Yes, the summers were hot and muggy, but winter barely seemed to call for more than a pair of jeans and a serviceable cardigan or winter jacket.
So I made the move when the opportunity arose with my work to move to the Big Smoke, and I've never looked back. I own one cardigan and one wool trench coat. One pair of jeans and one pair of track-pants. And I don't seem to ever need anything more than that. I still keep a pair of gloves and a scarf for when I visit my mother though. These will be coming out of storage this weekend – I'm going to a scrapbooking camp up at Lake Perseverance, and it's going to be BLOODY COLD. All part of the experience, though, you understand.