I have always found getting dressed at this time of year particularly irritating

It’s the not-quite-warm-or-cold, not-quite-wet-or-dry, not-quite-winter-or-summerness of it.  Against this backdrop, choosing is hard and the choice I make is usually wrong.

First thing in the morning is still very cold (well, for me, the hot house flower, it is.)  But despite the fact that I know it’s bordering on sub-zero outside, I see bright sunshine streaming through my windows, so I just can’t resist reaching for a summery outfit. “Surely” I reason, with valiant though misplaced optimism “this radiant sunshine means things are finally warming up out there?”  Half an hour later I’m shivering violently by the school gates, all feeling lost in all extremities.  As the final stages of hypothermia set in, my last memory before losing consciousness is wondering what on earth made me reach for a gypsy skirt, crop top and sandals?

OK, so that last part is not entirely true and, dear Reader, you’ll be relieved to know that I did in fact survive the school run intact.  I dash home to swap my deeply inappropriate summer garb for jeans and fluffy socks – only to find that when I emerge on to the streets half an hour later, the entire neighbourhood is dressed in shorts and shades, busily shopping for a barbecue.  I am left to stumble through the bright sunshine, glowing in ladylike fashion (read: sweating like the proverbial porcine), wondering yet again whether it’s January or July.

Traditional advice is, of course, that we should deal with this meteorological uncertainty via the cunning use of layering.  One simply reaches into one’s capsule wardrobe to retrieve the cashmere sweater that adds elegant warmth to the casual smartness of a linen shirt, all or which matches effortlessly with designer jeans, huge shades and a scarf you could lose a badger in.  Et voila. Style and flexibility, meaning you are never caught in the wrong threads.

I tried this the other day.  As a result I can only conclude that this ‘layering’ is, in fact, the preserve of models and fashionistas.  For starters I don’t own a capsule wardrobe (what does that even mean?)  What lurks in my own dust-free (see last week’s column) recesses is a mish-mash of individual items all bought because I liked them, well, individually.  Alas, they bear little relation to one another.  I don’t own anything that “goes” with anything else – at least not deliberately. I like to call this eclectic.  Feel free to rephrase in your own words…

Chilly again this morning.  I resort to shrugging on a grey “goes with everything” cardy and pack an oversized handbag with an umbrella, a hat and some sun glasses.  Then I stomp off down the street like Nora Batty in eager anticipation of her first run-in. Within a matter of minutes, my back is too hot – PLEASE don’t let me sweat – whilst a distinctly un-balmy wind blasts its way down my neck with extraordinary precision.

Oh for goodness’ sake.  Enough already! Roll on summer.