After the longest winter known to womankind, spring is finally in the air and my enormous, reinforced and padded, hooded and fur-trimmed winter coathas finally been relegated to the cupboard.
Just the cupboard mind - not properly stored -the round yellow thing may have been spotted and my toes defrosted, but there have been multiple false alarms already and I’m taking no chances.
I learned my lesson when I threw away my seen-better days bobbled tights with glee, only to be forced back into M&S to buy some more.
I’ve turned the heating on and off more times than you can shake a stick at and I’m only just recovering from the day I went to work and foolishly exposed my ankles. (Suspected frostbite)
Despite all this, and the fact I have had longer than usual to worry about shedding a layer, I am not even slightly ready for warmer weather or steeled in any way for flashing any part my mottled, winter self, to the world - even that lower part of my face always covered by a scarf.
I have once again been caught completely by surprise by those people posing outside pubs on drive home in shorts.
You know the ones -one ray and they think they are in Ibiza.
You’d think having longer to prepare would help us Brits be ready to shed our winter scales.
Ideally we would burst summer-ready like a butterfly from a Chrysalis.
Instead, if you are like me, you suddenly realise you haven’t yet put your new year fitness resolution into place and run down the gym and into the air conditioning, conveniently avoiding the warmer weather altogether
Meanwhile, lesser-spotted Lancastrians are spotted doggedly sticking to their long sleeves and trousers in case UV accidentally touches skin and gives us an overdose of unfamiliar Vitamin D.
Northerners may be considered tough but we are far from barbeque-ready.
Or even for life without comforting soups and night in around the fire.
But spring is here regardless and as press releases pour in advising me about ‘linen for sunny days’ and ‘summer workouts’ I’m keeping spare tights in my bag.