A slushy, dripping sort of day. Which means, thank god, that about a month's worth of snow might actually start melting.
Never thought I'd be glad to see the back of the magical stuff but am fed up of taking half an hour to get a wriggling child dressed to go out in the morning (gloves, hat, fourteen jumpers, waterproofs, coat, boots...oh, sorry, it's lunchtime). Plus there's nowhere to go when we are finally dressed, what with playgroups and everything else being cancelled for bad weather. I have exhausted all cunning methods of entertaining a bored toddler on my own.
Actually, that's a lie: I have really exhausted all cunning methods of entertaining myself. The boy would probably happily play cars and build snowmen for months, but I've got cabin fever. We need company: which in a place where we are new arrivals and know nobody, isn't easy.
Later this week I have to referee a debate between some MPs in front of possibly hundreds of people. This doesn't remotely worry me: it's a piece of cake, compared to walking into a new playgroup and attempting to Make Friends. I've interviewed prime ministers and been to war zones, neither of which were as scary.
Everything about it makes me feel like the new girl at school, arriving two years after everyone's already made friends: it doesn't help that I went to (and hated) an all-girls school, gaining a lifelong suspicion of all-female environments.
While I had a fabulous mummy network in London thanks to two NCT groups, there's no such easy means of breaking into the circle here.
Apparently I'm not the only one. "Everybody with any sense hates playgroups," says my veteran stay-at-home mummy friend, rolling her eyes. Another friend who gave up work says it took months of 'plastering on a smile' and being relentlessly chatty before the playgroup clique thawed enough to admit her.
I know, I know: they're just perfectly nice mothers and toddlers, and in time we'll work out. But for now while I pretend we are going to playgroup for the sake of the boy's social skills - sharing, taking turns, responding in civilised manner to being whacked with a toy - it's actually mine we're working on. I need to learn to play nicely: if, that is, anyone will play with me.