January really is the cruellest month. No wonder some fortunate friends have dodged the column of dreary weather and short days, seeking asylum in the Southern Hemisphere, or at least the Southern Mediterranean. Not that the British winter climate is all bad. Brisk clear days promote mental rigour. Barry Smith, a historian from New Zealand and an early evangelist for that nation’s serious wine, once wrote that Prime Minister Lord Salisbury had a mind like a clear blue winter day.
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