Shivering in Sheffield
When I got back to Sheffield yesterday afternoon I discovered that our cunning plan to reduce the number of hours the house is heated during our Christmas absence appeared to have backfired. The timer had indeed been reduced to an hour or two in the morning and an hour or two in the evening, but we had also accidentally turned the central heating control from ‘timer’ to ‘off’. As I sat down to a late lunch after setting down my luggage, I noticed that it was not only my spaghetti that was steaming, but my breath. A cloud of condensation covered the inside of every window.
Despite the bad news that our energy supplier is about to increase gas prices by a double digit percentage I had no qualms in immediately turning the heating on to ‘constant’ and racking the temperature up to 30°. I checked the house over, made sure the windows were closed but the vents open, and even borrowed an electric space heater to warm the place up a bit. An empty fridge motivated me to make a trip to the local Co-Op, but once my food stocks were replenished and the temperature had begun to rise, the house was back to feeling like a home. And by the time I went to bed I was content to switch the heating back to its regular twice-a-day programme and to a less expensive temperature setting.
I’m back, and the house is nice and snug. I just have to warm up my brain and then things can really get going again.