I am one of those people that rarely freeze, I have my own central heating system running through my arteries. At the moment I am sitting at the computer next to an open window. Temperature is about 12°C outside, which is not really cold, but I am convinced that he who will not be mentioned will soon appear and ask if I could shut the window as I am probably causing a draft in the home. Yes, he just appeared asking if I could shut the window as it seems a state of freezing temperatures has our house in its grip.
I am quite comfortable in my short sleeved t-shirt, even a little overheated. I am not wearing socks or any other foot cover, just my comfortable Sketchers. I suppose some of us do react more sensitive to the cold than others. Perhaps it is a symptom of my MS, who can say, the complaint with a thousand faces. If I go out in Winter, of course I wrap up warm on top with my padded jacket and woolly scarf around my neck but underneath? Still short sleeeves, no woolly jacket, I am warm enough.
My mum always referred to drafts as fresh air in our house in London. this was probably because our doors would never shut properly, or the windows. If your house was built in 1884 and survived two world wars, the second war having bombs dropped around you and the house foundations no longer as intact as they should be, you have a different outlook on temperatures. Every door had a space somewhere, as nothing was straight, but had a slight angle. The windows had sash chords, a system of holding them together with ropes. If the rope wore through you could not open or shut the window, but dad knew how to repair it and replace the chords. We were not spoilt. I remember getting our first fridge, when I was still a kid. We made the most of it and put ice in every drink we had, winter or summer. Gone were the days of keeping the butter cold and fresh by putting it in a bowl of cold water, we had our own cold system.
There was a problem in Winter, because most of our water pipes were outside and they would freeze. If water freezes it expands, and so the pipes would burst. Dad to the rescue again, with strips of recycled torn sheets or other material, he would wrap up our pipes outside to keep them warm. As the whole street had the same system, all the piping was dressed in this way, so nothing was out of place, it was the normal appearance of the houses.
They were the memories of childhood. In the meanwhile I have closed the window in my room, although I am warm enough. I only wanted a little fresh air.