High horse day

I'm having one of those days where I jump on my high horse at the slightest provocation. Our computers are being rebuilt and merrily plinking at each other every 30 seconds and I've used this as an excuse to put off some work and whinge loudly about IT interrupting our day. VERY mature, I know. People in shops have suffered from my glaring at them for having the nerve to be in my way. I muttered darkly at an enormous private schoolboy this morning who had spread his adolescent lankiness across two train seats (without realising that he really really can't help being six foot four and forced to wear a boater).

This is indirectly caused by the weather. There's finally a semblance of winter in the air so I'm wearing wool. This means that I'm really comfortable on the walk to and from the train station and when I go outside at lunchtime but I'm really far too warm when sitting in air conditioning. I know, I know, the answer is layers. But layers don't work. You always get to a point where you've committed to a bottom layer of some warmth such as opaque tights so your legs don't freeze under a skirt and you can't take them off in the office. Same with woolen trousers. Same, I've discovered today, with a woolen long sleeved tshirt.

The other problem is my boots. They look good, or at least, adequate in the great scheme of fashion boots. I had a lot of trouble finding boots that cost less than my mortgage that fitted my erm muscular calves and that I could walk in. The issue is that my legs get hot when I'm indoors and that makes me cranky. I look back at the days over the past two winters where I've said things I may have regretted and realised that on all those days I was wearing these boots.

Which brings me back to the high horse hopping of today. Of course I'm wearing my boots. I should know by now to exercise extreme caution.