I am Basically a Bear and I am now Preparing for Hibernation

In Game of Thrones, winter is always approaching with operatic doom. Every autumn, I understand why.

You see, I’m nearly always cold. There is one week in mid-January when I don’t require a scorching electric blanket before I can pierce the skin of my bed—at other times, I may as well plunge into an ice bath as touch those sheets without preparatory heating. I’ve been told my showers are so hot they could take your skin off, yet to me they feel pleasantly tepid.

In years gone by I have foolishly expected winter to be like the rest of the year, only colder. But no. Winter, like the past in The Go-Between, is a foreign country: they do things differently there. At least, they should.

One winter I decided to get in touch with my inner bohemian and join an art class. It ran each Tuesday evening for three hours—a long time to suppress my natural inclination to be uptight and judgy.

But far worse was the pair of minuscule bar heaters whose job it was to stop our gelid fingers breaking off en route to the canvas. My teeth chattered so loudly the teacher came over and shrouded me in her scarves. I was still frozen but now also terrified of dribbling paint on her pashmina. I didn’t return.

You may think I learned my lesson and stopped committing to things outside my snuggly house from June through August. Again, no. I am a girl for whom painful lessons read as light suggestions until my forehead is red from slapping.

But this year will be different.

Because finally, I get it.

I am basically a bear (minus the hirsuteness, I assure you), so this winter I shall hibernate.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have been preparing.

I have cleared my schedule of all but the most immovable commitments. Stocked up on alarming quantities of shiraz and snacks (I know this is Sydney but there may be an avalanche, you don’t know). And chosen a couple of big projects to focus on.

Leaving no reason to open my front door, except to greet the pizza deliverer.

Of course, there remains the issue of exercise. Heading out for a walk as the days shorten is like trying not to finish the Tim Tams once the packet is open.

As with most things, for me the key is attire, so I have curated a closet of workout outfits of escalating warmth. To maximize the variance, I started in summer with a cropped top and leggings; then progressed through three jackets of rising coziness as the chill intensified. The third jacket is padded and sports a detachable panel for chestal warmth with a hood for when I wish to look menacing (surprisingly often).

On the iciest days I can add a snug-fitting crew neck skivvy thing (probably called a skivvy). My flip-top fingerless mittens will allow me to flip down to unlock my phone and squint at the message I can’t read without glasses—that says order more wine, right? Then flip back up to make covert rude gestures at people who scream at their puppies for trying to play with me.

There are so many lessons I repeatedly forget and relearn that I’m thinking of changing my middle name to Willsheeverlearn.

With winter though, this year I’m ready. Winter can come.