Mum arrived with her bag of scraps and was muttering about how many layers of clothes she had on.
"Seven, Gordon! On my upper torso! And I need Long-Johns. The wind is whistling up my trouser leg above the sock and is jolly chilly!"
This maybe an idea for a Christmas present?
"And do you know what?" She mused. "When I slither reluctantly out of my 100% polyester pyjamas I light up the room like the Eurostar going over the Medway Bridge. If Dad is quick he can see the time without switching the light on."
"And then you know for sure that it's chilly outside when you brush your hair and it stands out like Marc Bolan's used to."
Okay okay, so it's chilly Mum! Gordon xxx