When it's too cold

I had planned to go into town this morning to sort out a few things,
but then, out of the blue, our plumber arrived to service our central
heating boiler and to sort out a slight water leak from it. (He was
supposed to be coming next week to do all this). The slight water
leak was a more major problem than I'd thought, and he spent the
best part of the day having a look at it. Unfortunately he couldn't
get hold of a small replacement part for the boiler, (which is a highly
efficient Vaillant one, made in Germany), and we're having to wait
2-3 weeks to get the part sent over from Germany. So, Mr P has
fixed the leak temporarily, until he comes back to fit the new part.

He said he'd bill us next time, but with plumbers charging £200 for
a day's work these days, (plus cost of parts on top), we'll be
getting a large bill.

Imagine what life would be like without central heating? It would
be like going back 50-60 years, when we had coal fires in one or
downstairs rooms and no heating at all in the bathroom and
bedrooms, apart from the occasional luxury of a one or two bar
electric fire, or an Aladdin paraffin heater, plus hot water bottles in
the beds. Any of you old enough to remember having these in your
childhood? We were a hardy lot then. ("Ee, when I were a lad ....").

It wasn't until 1964, when we moved into a brand new house, did
we have the luxury of central heating. Before that I used to see
"Jack Frost" patterns on my bedroom window, on frosty mornings.
Bloody freezing. Would you choose to live in a very cold place over
winter, without central heating? Well I wouldn't, if I could choose
to live somewhere warmer.

Thinking about igloos, I think my wife, Mrs C, would be happy
living in one. She likes our main bedroom very cold at night, with
the windows open, and with very little covering her. I'm the exact
opposite - give me a warm bedroom any day/night, with a thick
duvet (plus extra layers in the wintertime ... I'm so thin, you see),
and the windows shut (except when it gets too hot in the Summer).

I'm a bad snorer too. I sleep so heavily that I don't respond to
being kicked, punched or poked in the night. However, all Mrs C has
to do is to fling back the bedcovers off me, and I'll wake up very
quickly to haul them back up again. I think this has the makings of
a good TV comedy sketch, somewhat like "One Foot In The Grave".
So you can see that we're totally unsuited to each others' company
at bedtime ... well, during the night, anyway.