Freezing. In a good way.
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You know, in a bracing "my cheeks have just been buffed by a salty sea wind" sort of way. But still freezing, nevertheless.I'm sleeping on a futon - which is, I think, my little sister's way of getting back at me for making her sleep on the lumpy futon from hell in my flat in London last month. Oops. The futon in the spare room of my mum's house up here is, like all other uncomfortable futons, for most of its working life actually a sofa. As a sofa, it's marvellous. Long, comfy, arms - pretty much everything you could ...