I thought perhaps there was a mistake, alas (or yay!) no; as I ate breakfast, it was warming up to -19.7º. And so, having put off for long enough the unavoidable, I rode southwards, not in search of warmer climes, just a nice pair of winter gloves for cycling please.
Stumbling into Fahhrad Frank on Torstr, I found my perfect winter friends. And so, winter, I shake my clam-like mits at you and mock your pathetic attempts to suffer fingertips with frostbite. Even better, I can pre-warm them and have 8-10 hours of hand-hot-watertbottles. It’s quite depraved.
Shall have to buy a hat now to avoid losing ears, however.