The freezing, freezing weather continues. I can’t take it any more. I am a summer person, or more like an all-year-round tropical person, trapped in the fifth month of a never ending Scottish winter.

Every day I bundle myself up into thermal long johns, jeans, sheepskin boots, thermal top, woollen jumper, fleece hoodie (oh the glamour… you can see why I write about department stores and fashion, can’t you?) I practically sit on top of the heater at my computer and mainline tea, but I’m still cold, deeply, bone-chillingly cold, most of the time. I may even get those fingerless mitts to use at the keyboard… actually no, that would be sad.

Apparently, according to my exercise-ist husband, this is because I need to get fitter and get the blood circulating round my chilly, long limbs. I say: ‘yes I will go to the gym, I will go out for a run, just as soon as it’s bit warmer out there!’ Until then, I am sitting on top of my radiator with a cup of tea and not moving.

My dog, Jimmy, feels the same. He is so cold some days that he wraps himself up in his fleece blankies and will only come out for food.

He’s right, February should be declared National Duvet Month and we should all just be allowed to stay at home and do a Jimmy until it is over.