When I was a girl we had electric blankets and flannelette sheets. Even then I hated those bloody sheets - all wrinkly and bally and yukky, but they were snuggly warm in the winter. I remember tucking my school uniform into the bottom of my bed so that I would have warm clothes to jump into in the morning and I would stop in bed until the very last minute cos I just didn't want to face the chilly elements.
Winter now is just a brief respite from the heat of the summer. Oh I might pop on a light jumper at night and Steve has bought me a couple of rugs to use as we sit like the old people we are watching the tellie, and Dog certainly enjoys tucking under these too, but there is no desperate need for heaters and slippers and coats and gloves.
As a newly-weds, we had no money and a little house and an inherited kero heater. It should surprise no-one to learn that I was no more patient at 20 than I am at 55 and on one particularly chilly evening I decided it would be wise to give the thing a bit of a tickle along to hurry up the heat. Well hurry it up it did. Flames took off and reached the ceiling and I am pretty sure that serious damage was averted only by Ray's quick action of picking up the whole thing and throwing it out onto the front lawn. I am not sure and I could be making it up, but I seem to remember a big explosion that caused the old lady next door to be even further pissed off with her youngster neighbours. We were not her favourite people.
I reckon the elf and safety police might have banned these heaters and perhaps for good reason.
So now as an old girl I must be running permanently hot and definitely not in a good way. I look forward to my crisp clean cotton sheets and just a little coverlet. I would love to cuddled up under a great big doona but the very idea makes me break out into a sweat.
It is no wonder that the only cool place in the summer is in the pool.
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