15 Things people who are always cold want you to know

Just remember, cold hands = warm heart and excellent drink-holding capabilities.

1.    Gloves are required all year round. There’s a six week period between July to August when you don’t have a trusty pair on hand.

2.    It takes a pep talk to get yourself out of the shower. And probably silent screaming, weeping and swearing.

3.    Snowy movies leave you cold. The Day After Tomorrow, Frozen and this LOTR clip produce the same nervous tension as a blood-soaked horror fest.

4.    You worry for movie characters who go charging off on adventures without adequate clothing. Don’t forget your sweater, Indy. Say what you will about the guy, but Bane knew what he was doing when it came to weather-appropriate wear.

5.    Gilets are pointless and must be stopped. Why would you create something so cosy and then cut off the arms? It's like buying rollerskates and throwing away the wheels.

6.    You feel slightly suspicious of people who wear t-shirts through November. This is a safe space: no one will judge you for accepting that you're a human, not a polar bear, and putting on a jacket.

7.    Shaking hands is a tense moment. An icy, deathlike grip does not make the greatest first impression.

8.    …Especially if you also experience Raynaud’s phenomenon. Apparently about 12% of men and 20% of women have this delightful condition. A drop in the temperature causes the capillaries in your fingers and toes to go into spasm, shutting off the blood supply until they go numb and pinchy, and take on a charming corpse-like colour. Wiggling helps, but also makes you look like you’re hatching evil plans, or that you're trying out for the Toros.

9.   Reusable hand warmers, hot water bottles and microwaveable slippers are top of your wishlist. Anything to break up all the cold.

10.  You have a deep and abiding hatred of air con. Air con was brought to Britain by sadists who don’t want us to enjoy the few days of the year when we can feel the ends of our toes. It’s also started more office wars than stolen packed lunches and soggy teabags in the sink.

11.  Strangers think you're overreacting. Yes, I really do need this scarf and woolly hat in September. No, I don't need your pity. Unless I can turn it into heat and use it to thaw out my ears.

12.  Hot people are the best. Forget sense of humour, witty conversation and a decent taste in films: a high body temperature is the most attractive trait. Bonus points if they also have warm clothes they’re willing to share.

13.  Sweat feels like a victory. I’ve got to a point where I’m so warm my body has to adjust itself to cope? WIN.

14.  Outside activities do not hold the same appeal. BBQ? Beach trip? Picnic? Yes, I think I have enough woolly jumpers to get through that. Better pack the tinfoil just in case.

15.  However, all this means that the moment when sun finally reaches your poor, freezing body is a total revelation. Like eating a gooey chocolate brownie, but under your skin.

What can we learn from the 'Day of the Dead'?

At least this explained why he always seemed
to have art on the brain.

Falling on 2^nd November, Mexico’s ‘Día de los Muertos’ ('Day of the Dead') has a history that can be traced back for thousands of years. With an emphasis on remembrance, family and celebration, there are crucial lessons to be learned from a day that brings death to life.

Despite the many positives, let’s address the inevitable problems that arise with such a suggestion. Firstly, there are the religious overtones to consider. In Mexico, food, such as sugar skulls and special ‘pan de muerto’ bread, and blankets are left out for the soul of the deceased, and some families build shrines to them and to the Virgin Mary. For atheists and other non-Christians, these traditions would be irrelevant or even inappropriate. A second concern is that what would begin as a festival dedicated to the dead could quickly become another opportunity for companies to shove merchandise down our throats: cue an endless array of cards, banners, bunting, toys, sweets and cakes all appearing in shops three months in advance in a tacky attempt to obscure the true meaning with pound signs.

These are, of course, important issues, and as such I am not suggesting that we take every element of Mexico’s traditional Day of the Dead activities, rituals and beliefs and transplant them to the grey November streets of Britain. It is, rather, the essence of this festival that I believe we could learn a lot from. Day of the Dead seeks to unite families in order to celebrate an individual who has died, a complete contrast to the stiff upper lip that we Brits are often expected to maintain, at least to some degree, when faced with the death of a loved one.

Although traditions concerning children tend to be more sober, a significant part of the celebrations are devoted to taking a humorous look at the person’s life. While I have, fortunately, never died, I think I would prefer to be remembered for my wild sense of humour and wacky flights of fancy than as a disconnected, staid and noble figure. Besides, I am all for encouraging dressing up and the consumption of sweets in my honour.

Of course, everyone must deal with death on their own terms, but a festival which encourages mourning as a celebratory group activity rather than a sorrowful solitary pursuit means that families and friends can support each other through grief. While facing that telling space in your life can never be easy, bottling up painful emotions will not help in the long run, and repressing sweet memories that are now bitter with loss means losing part of your life with that person. Having just one person to discuss your loss with, particularly with a humorous overtone, can reassure you that you are not alone. Each individual’s memories of the departed will keep them alive and refreshed, mourned but not idealised, gone but not forgotten. 

While the thought of skulls, souls and altars might make you cringe, it is the message at the heart of this festival that is of primary importance. When people die, it is OK and even healthy to mourn for our own loss, but also do them the honour of celebrating their life, complete with wonders, warts and all.

Fireworks, films and squirrels on jumpers: why autumn is underrated

Ever the pragmatist, Superman never tested his powers without a soft
landing spot.

Despite its crisp sunshine and colourful palette, autumn is the most overlooked and unloved of the seasons. Devoid of the excitement of winter, the freshness of spring and the anticipation of summer, it is often seen as the bringer of bad news, the party pooper who wants you to turn the music down, put on some clothes and get an early night. Contrary to its dowdy reputation, the underdog of the seasons actually has a lot to offer its ungrateful public.

Firstly, the fashion. We can finally pack away the shorts and spaghetti tops and breathe a sigh of relief as the woolly cardigans and enormous socks are brought blinking into the light of day. Pasty legs are once again ensconced in jeans, while toenails go triumphantly unpainted as sandals give way to well-insulated boots. Arriving after the sweaty fluster of summer and before the fuss of Christmas parties, autumn is the most forgiving of the seasons when it comes to beauty maintenance. Fake tan addicts can get out their snowy white sheets and razors remain tentatively on the side, while a relaxing ten minutes with a face and hair mask is the order of the quarter. If a stripped-back beauty regime is not enough to convince you, who can fail to love a season which practically demands the possession of an alarmingly large and obscenely cosy jumper, preferably emblazoned with some form of woodland creature? Ban the bikini and snuggle up in an appropriately garish knit.

If you’re looking for somewhere to work the wool, why not try the cinema? Although a darkened room may not seem like the best place to show off an outfit, there are so many gut-bustingly exciting movies on the horizon you won’t want to be anywhere else. So far this autumn we’ve lusted after Anna Karenina’s drool-worthy dresses (and leading man), whooped and wept over the superb Perks of Being a Wallflower, and tried very hard to pretend that Joseph Gordon-Levitt resembles Bruce Willis in sci-fi thriller Looper.

Fortunately for all popcorn manufacturers, this promising start looks set to continue well into November before the Christmas movies strike. Released on the 17^th October and featuring one of the most endearing animated dogs of all time (apologies to Gromit), Frankenweenie is Tim Burton’s affectionate tribute to classic monster movies. While it fails to deliver one major feature of a Burton movie (namely Johnny Depp), it retains the style and dark humour fans have come to expect. Another visually stunning recent release is On the Road, Walter Salles’ adaptation of Kerouac’s celebrated novel. Add to these the return of Daniel Craig’s brooding Bond in Skyfall and Paul Thomas Anderson’s highly anticipated The Master, and it becomes clear that there simply aren’t enough Orange Wednesdays in the months ahead.

It being autumn, it is entirely possible that you are reading this in the library of some form of educational institute, surrounded by a small fort of books and a moat of notes, and fuelled by coffee craftily smuggled past watchful librarians. Serving as a break between summer and winter, autumn can seem a lot like New Year. It is a time to take up yoga and vegetables, and drop chocolate cake and ice cream sundaes. After the long lazy days of summer, the intellectual stimulation afforded by school and Uni suddenly seems life-affirming and mind-blowing. You experience a sudden need for levels of organisation only achievable through the acquisition of numerous items of stationery. Hole-punches, staplers, cat-shaped highlighters and cake-shaped rubbers begin to accumulate on a desk already covered in complex-sounding books and Post-it notes as you hunt down the perfect note-storing system.

Autumn represents a chance to start again and make good on the promise of efficiency made in the queue at the Paperchase sale on the 1^st January. It should be seen as a golden time of academic delight and dedication soon to be destroyed by impending deadlines and dissertation woes. Take note and embrace this time of hitherto unseen productivity. Just expect to find said note several months later on the floor beside the earring you thought was gone forever and a disturbingly large ball of dust.

For any sceptics still out there, autumn offers two of the most enjoyable festivals of the year. Halloween is possibly the only excuse adults have to douse themselves in liberal quantities of fake blood, frighten small children and make elaborate sculptures out of pumpkins. Bonfire night also offers ample opportunities to have fun under the guise of responsibility and tradition. Any season which offers us the chance to create a fake man and set him alight, before sending rockets and other noisy, pretty things into the sky and ingesting dangerous amounts of toasted marshmallow can only be, in an overused word, awesome.

Despite these deeply rational arguments for the joyfulness inherent in autumn, there are the inevitable cynics out there. While they stubbornly clutch their Cornettos and shiver in their hot pants, may the rest of us pull on our boots, throw on our scarves and follow the yellow brick road laid at our feet in the form of the golden leaves of autumn.