A Winter’s Tale

I am currently a basic b*tch. And I’m not even sorry about it. The minute autumn is in sight I turn into a pumpkin-spice latté drinking, cinnamon-Yankee-candle smelling, scarf lover who can’t help but tweet/instagram/pinterest my love of picturesque woodland walks.

I exaggerate of course (I’m more of a full-fat caramel girl myself) but my point is that I FREAKING love this time of year in a horrendously clichéd way. I can’t help it that I approach a childish level of giddyness at the sight of an untouched pile of crisp, golden leaves, nor that my obssession with winter knits sees me bankrupt before I even begin thinking about Christmas shopping.

As much as I’ve tried to become an outdoorsy person I’m ultimately hardwired (as I suspect most of us are) to detest early rises and leaving my bed for the harsh winter weather. But isn’t that so much easier to do when you can snuggle into a woolly, oversized coat and soft, tartan scarf? Well, maybe not so much easier but it certainly helps.

Sometimes passing on sequins and sangrias for cosy, button down pyjamas and a deliciously good book can be just as, if not more, rewarding

Nights in during the summer months can feel a little tedious. It seems that as the days get shorter and cooler there’s less regret in favouring an indulgent night in rather than braving icy nights on the town. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Christmas nights out and all the glamour associated, but sometimes passing on sequins and sangrias for cosy, button down pyjamas and a deliciously good book can be just as, if not more, rewarding. There’s a pile of books on my bedside table threatening to topple from ever increasing height and I can’t wait to make the most of winter nights and get stuck in. I’m currently reading Amy Poehler’s Yes Please, the perfect antidote to the sour taste caused by the knowledge that Parks and Recreation has finished. After that? I’m tempted to re-read The Picture of Dorian Gray; there’s something more atmospheric about reading a chilling, beautifully written horror at this time of year.

It’s not just nights of literary enlightenment that have got me excited about staying in though. No matter what time of year it is, I love nothing more than a highly unproductive day lost to a Netflix series, preferably accompanied by my duvet and a mountain of Galaxy Caramel, but this season is particularly excellent for TV shows. I’m particulary loving the new twisted offering from Brad Falchuk and Ryan Murphy, Scream Queens, a witty parody of our hashtagging generation that can most accurately be described as bizzare cocktail of Gossip Girl, Glee and American Horror Story.

There is something magical about the period, something that all too often gets lost in the frantic run up to Christmas

Winter is a tale of two contradications: the busy and the quiet. The weather may be bitterly cold and the grass may seem greener on the other side (i.e those long, hazy summer days) but there is something magical about the period, something that all too often gets lost in the frantic run up to Christmas. Winter should also be about relaxation and taking time to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. It is, after all, the most wonderful time of the year…

Natasha Gregson

Photo Credit: unbearable lightness via Compfight cc

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