There are only that many things that a boss can possibly do to keep a girl late in office now that the holidays are on the brink. Mine decides to seduce me with a cup of hot latte and an uncannily white teethy smile every time I am required to stick around till late in the evening.

For the rest of year I get past the exasperation times like these invite by simply shutting my eyes and thinking about the best things in life, namely Hugh Grant in his checked boxers toddling up and down, gingerly opening the refrigerator door and asking ‘Would you like some tea? Or some apricot soaked in honey?’

During winters however this splendid trick seems to fall a little short of its effectiveness. What with the gentle nip in the air the boxer clad Hugh seems a little out of season. It therefore requires a magnificent effort on my part to stay put in my straight little office chair anytime after 6 in December.

That is of course not to say that I enjoy winter or that the chill in my feet fills my heart with sudden childlike glee. Winter and I have never been what one could confidently call ‘friendly’ with each other. Being from a part of the world that is predominantly hot and humid I have, I admit, always been rather scornful towards Winter. For me it is a cumbersome affair full of sweaters, mufflers, tonsils and cough drops, utterly useless and thoroughly annoying. Something buried deep inside me renders me quite incapable of enjoying this season the way I am expected to.

For years I have seen my cousins and neighbours turning what can only be described as deliriously happy with the arrival of Winter. With festive fanfare they dash out their woolens even before the temperature begins to slide and wait in eagerness to wear them at the first possible chance they get.

Unlike them however I hate stepping out of my tiny little apartment during December. Its like the rains really the cold is. It’s quite fabulous while you look at it from your window of course, grainy like mist the cold (much like the rain) spreads all over the city and makes it look like something out of an album. But the minute you decide to step out of your house you have to get all wrapped up like some grotesquely fattened sheep and trot about hoping not to catch one of those head colds.

Hence, it isn’t the season per say that keeps me twitching in my chair every time my boss cajoles me into staying a little longer in office during December. Instead, it is the promise of the warmth of a gooey, soft, swallowing, quicksand like blanket that makes me impatient.

I can swim oceans of sweaters and ugly shapeless jumpers just to get to one of those. After all what does a girl want at the end of a day? A warm bath, a hot cup of something sweet, thick and grainy with a hint of a kick and a blanket to dip into and watch TV from under. And so, for this season alone (that is until the plum cakes arrive) I will be dreaming about nothing besides just that.

As for Hugh, he can wait for April when his boxers will be fashionable again.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 5th, 2007 at 4:16 pm and is filed under Celebrities, Entertainment. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.