What is it about winter that makes us want to eat more and do less. A warm bed is like a mothers hug, when the other kids don’t want to play with you, and the only thing that can bring you comfort is in your moms arms.
A hot soup fills all the crevices of your vessel, and makes you feel like winter could be your favourite season (please note this feeling goes away after 45min to an hour) wondering what can I eat next? where has all the bread gone?
As you can see I was not built for this season. Well maybe I was but Socs ruined me after a 3 months stay in London, in an apartment in Soho. Sounds like fun, well let me set the scene. We were opening a “fresh” store in Covent Garden. There were four of us. The two left when winter started approaching, which left me and Socs in the coolest apartment and the most central area in London were everything I needed was walking distance away. Sounds like a dream!!! It was, I felt like the coolest kid on the block. I would wake up walk to work, drink a hot chocolate from Cafe Nero, made friends with the barista that used to give me muffins on the house (his name will not be mentioned, under the protection of, keep melpo smiling act). I would walk home and Socs was going through a culinary phase and used to make these unbelievable five star dishes (this boy can cook). And then the universe sent me an sms. The geyser broke that was the beginning of the end. Every morning there was a involuntary scream, similar to a prisoner getting tortured with electricity. The scream would come from whoever woke up first. Yes we did try to call a plumber, but to get a plumber in London, let’s just say there is a better chance of you finding a kidney doner with a rare blood type.
Socs left soon after, I survived another 3 weeks but when the universe sent me another message saying your fridge just broke!! I fled... below check out a picture of me after a shower!
My body temperature has never returned to its original settings, so allow me to tolerate winter and like a bear hibernate till it’s over.
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