Sometimes I get a bit S.A.D., you know. Not sad. Not weepy, tearful, prone to clutching strangers arms on buses and telling them how dreadful my life is. No, a bit S.A.D.
Seasonal Affective Disorder, the quacks call it, but my children have renamed it Stroppy Arse Disease. Apparently during the winter months I am a victim of Stroppy Arse Disease – or rather, I am a carrier which makes them the victims! 😀
Seasonal Affective Disorder “is a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms in the winter or summer, spring or autumn, repeatedly, year after year” . What that means, in layman’s (or laywoman’s – snigger) terms, is that from about October to about April I’m a right grumpy cow!
But not this year, because here we are, ’tis only the last week of March and the sun has got his hat on! I am a vision of grinning cheeriness and have cast away my woollen vests and combination underwear in flagrant disregard of my Grannie’s advice (“Cast ne’er a clout ’til May is out…”)
Naturally, though, should a gentleman specifically request the long johns and vest combo, I would do my best to accede to his wishes..