It is that time of year when the battle lines are drawn, trenches dug and open hostilities commenced. It is Autumn.
On the one side is my husband who likes to relax at home in his t-shirt and shorts in front of the fire all warm and cosy.
On the other side is me. I believe in putting on more clothes if you are cold and not the heating, which is not going on until November. That is my rule, and I pay the heating bills.
Whilst I am reasonably secure in my position as bill paying authority figure, mutinous mutterings are becoming audible. Moreover in bed last night my husband, aka the human hot water bottle, rebelled by refusing to let me warm my cold feet on his legs as usual. Instead he had the cheek to suggest that my feet wouldn’t be so cold if I allowed some heat to permeate the house.
Rules are rules, and whilst flexibility has its allotted time and place in my life I am not moving on this point until such time as my children’s tongues become stuck to any interior ice formations. It’s time to pull out those old woollies and hunker down. It’s going to be a long, cold October!
