A writer's solution
It may only be September but already the weather is beginning to turn chilly here. Is it time to turn on the central heating yet? I've put it off until now, cheered by the sunny, if brisk weather. I'm reluctant to succomb to that luxury until I really have to. I could put on a sweater or just keep moving (with two children there's always plenty of housework and washing to do). However, being a writer and a romantic at heart, I've come up with a different solution. I want a shawl. When I was a child, my mother would take me with her to visit an elderly neighbour. She was probably in her sixties and seventies when I knew Mrs H but to a small child she always appeared ancient. Her bungalow was filled with antiques, dark carved wood, vibrant fabrics and the sound of her pet birds. She was a petite lady with perfectly curled white hair and creamy skin like delicate crepe paper. She wore dark, neat, plain clothes all year round but in the winter, she would wrap herself in a b...
