Presumably it is as cold in the town as in the country, but seeing all that cold glistening mud as I climb over the stile freezes me from the inside out, the opposite of a microwave.
The dog doesn't mind, tho I notice that if convenient she will trot round the wettest and darkest. When the sky is blue, so is the river, - usually everything is grey, the only grey it is a pleasure to see is the smoke from the chimneys.....and my new winter coat, tho probably that should have been black but you grab what you can find when shopping in a small town.
Small town shopping is not a joy and I have to drive for half and hour to even get there, and then pay car parking for the privilege.
My name is obviously not Joy.
So I don't go often, there is too much choice in life anyway, or not enough. There is a lot of what looks like choice but really there isn't anything that fulfills your desires, so you are left disgruntled and vaguely guilty for not having been satisfied.
Of course everything would be fine if we had a John Lewis' store, that is the dream; Debenham's doesn't really cut it. I doubt JL would either but it is the fantasy of every stout middle aged female for miles around.