A real winter

It’s cold out here. The twinkling frost on the tarmac pathways is not for shifting. For the first time this year the canal is freezing over.  My out breath produces vapour; my in breath is bracing.  The hole on the right knee of my skinny jeans now feels regrettable. The hardy couple who have just cheerily overtaken me must be wearing thermals. We seem to be having a real winter. I mean sometimes the season doesn’t hit until January 20th.