That's what SHE said.
"Fun" is not the F word that was coming to my mind.
Maybe Frozen. Or Frigid. Or Chilled to the Femur.
But walking against a 50-kmh wind as it's starting to sleet will never, in my dictionary, be described as "f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-un."
We were out for Rooby's evening walk, and did everything we could to minimize the effects of -6 C windchill, Tramantane-type winds (our Argeles friends will understand), and the imminent possibility of rain, sleet, hail, or flying sheep. Rather than walk down the hill (which would require walking back up again), we loaded Rooby into the boot and drove the short way down the hill to the "Park and Stride" lot. Instead of walking west, where there are plenty of open fields for the wind to blow, we walked east toward town where the old rail line "greenway" was pretty much carved out of rock, providing some protection.
Even at that, on the way back, walking against the wind, it was sometimes difficult to even make headway, especially with the "wind tunnel" effect of the ... er, tunnel that runs under the road near the skate park.
Hard to believe, but we actually saw a couple other people having "fun" out there - two women jogging.
Donna-Lane clearly likes cold weather more than I do. Which is not hard, since I don't like it except for photos of snow. She admits she wouldn't want "months and months" of near-freezing temperatures; I don't even like "minutes and minutes" of anything less than about 15 C (59 F).
I'm having "fun" now - inside the warm house with a space heater blowing on my feet and a cup of hot tea to drink (avec miel), which my fun-loving wife made for me as I was unloading the dog and toweling the "fun" off her fur.
In a little while, I'm going to have more fun, crawling under the bedcovers ... the warm, dry, non-windy bedcovers.