Frozen Brain

OK, so moving my office from the small but cosy room upstairs to The Room With A View possibly wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. At least not in sub-zero temperatures. The conservatory where I'm now supposed to work has a massive radiator pushing out heat at full blast, nicely warming up the birds, and the one insistent mole out in the garden. None of it seems to stay inside to warm my frozen fingers and brain cells. (Can they freeze - answers on a postcard please). The windows all around me, which on a summer's day afford a beautiful view across the rolling fields and hills beyond, are so called double glazed, but not up to the current weather it seems.

'It's all about heat loss,' says husband.

I didn't undertake this excursion of desk, pc and boxes and boxes of files (how did it all fit into that small space above???) on a whim. No, this is part of a carefully costed and drafted plan to tart up the house for a sale later on in the year. I feel like a pimp as I cast a cold eye (excuse the pun) over what we should and shouldn't spend money on.

'People expect quality finishes nowadays,' says (younger than son) Estate Agent.

I feel tired, cold and miserable and it's only Day One of the three month Changing Rooms. Where's the spirit of Carol Smiley when one needs it. I felt more like Frozen Smiley when I greeted the builders this morning. That reminds me, must make them a cup of coffee...ten sugars was it?