Sunday, 18 September 2011

Winter is coming...

It's still keeping its distance (I think it might not like it when the trees have too many leaves, or something), but it won't be long now before the top accessories in my house will be hot water bottles, and radiator hugging becomes the most popular pastime second only to lighting the fire in the living room. (Then sitting by it, of course.)

My bedroom is at somewhat of a disadvantage on the cosiness front, what with being on the corner of the house, directly beneath the roof: I have more external sides on my room than are available in any other bedroom in this house. Of course, my room has all of the natural cosiness advantages which go with a low, partly sloping ceiling, a lovely plush carpet, a warm colour scheme and my natural flair for making a place beautiful,* but it certainly does not win on the warmth front. When you think about it, warmth is an important part of cosiness.

I do, of course, have an excessively large radiator in my bedroom. When the radiator man came earlier this year to clean our system and fill it up with supermagic central heating fluid, he found it to be a great adventure: apparently he only ever came across small, modern radiators. Our behemoths are from the late '70s, and the majority of them could probably have you in a fight. Mine has two sections: front and back. This is common to most radiators in our house. I have no idea how much the back section helps; I expect that it staves off the bone-chilling cold which comes from the fabric of the house, in order to give its compatriot the chance to shine. Or something.

"Now this is all very well and good", I hear you say, "but what about the boiler itself? Is it a new and efficient boiler, or is it an old, cantankerous one, which drinks gas as though it is a liquid?"** Well, I am pleased that you asked. We did, in fact, have a lovely new boiler fitted only a couple of years back. Obviously it was a wrench parting with the boiler I have known for the whole of my life, but in my heart of hearts I knew it was the right thing to do.*** This new boiler, although it does not sit on the floor and thus denies us the luxury of having something on which to dry our socks, is rumoured to be more efficient, and certainly takes up less space.

With these excellent heating foundations we are capable of having a snug winter, even in our large, poorly-insulated Victorian house.

However, there is one more link in the chain. Daddy.

Mother doesn't believe in God. I think that she's wrong, but one has to accept that other people do not necessarily share all of one's beliefs. Daddy, however, is much worse. He doesn't believe in turning the heating on.

I mean, it's not as though it doesn't go on at all. For two hours every morning**** and evening, the boiler chugs away and the radiators do their thing. Unfortunately, in such a large house as this that doesn't go very far. Warm clothes are the order of the day, and my notactuallyasecretbutIpretendnottouseit fan heater is, erm, not useful at all, because I am dutiful and would never waste electricity on such frivolous activities as keeping my fingers and toes acceptable colours. The electric blanket goes back on the bed any day now, and I may actually have to start wearing clothes in bed again.

What I really wanted to share is that I've re-arranged my bedroom so that my settee (without arms this season: it's very versatile) is against the radiator, and my bed is far away from it, thus maximising both heat output into the room and sitting leaning against radiator potential, which will be excellent whenever I am in my room and the radiators are on. I would provide you with a photo, but I've not even thought seriously about tidying my room yet, and it needs a couple of additional hours spending on it first. By which point I will have forgotten all about it.

Still, the room looks a lot better. I have a lot more floor space available, except that there are an awful lot of books lying on it, which wouldn't fit into my bookcases. There is only one actual shelf remaining: the one holding Mother's ornaments. I extracted her desk from my room without any resistance or objection (to my immense relief; it took up an awful lot of space, and was ever so convenient for me to use as a place for stacking random crap, meaning that it always looked truly awful); I wonder if I could do the same for her ornaments. Or perhaps I should evict some of the books from my (her) bookcases and put them in boxes in Robert's room. All controversial stuff. Don't tell her I'm suggesting this, 'K?

Still, victory is mine already, on account of having reclaimed my bedroom from the forces of Camping, Other Holidays and Lack of Access to the Radiator. Once Entropy has been defeated, I shall be entirely there.*****

*Three of these things are real.

**That doesn't really work, does it?

***Also, it's my parents' house, so I don't get a say anyway.

****The two hours start at approximately the same time as I leave the house in the morning, so that doesn't help me all that much.

*****Probably very rich, also.

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