Survival of the Fattest ('The DSM')
As I write the ground is frozen, the pond iced-over and we're about to start our seventh stere of wood, and it's only the first day of 2021. My wife sold me the notion of moving to France by endless talk of the long, hot summers but nothing was mentioned about the long, cold winters. I'm not even sure the last five winters have been that cold. A friend of ours often tells of winters past, when ice formed on the inside of his windows. Being a sensitive soul I feel the cold more than my hardened, Scottish wife. When in the car there is a constant battle between us over the temperature control knob. She is always too hot, whereas I like to crank the dial up to 'eleven' and enjoy the blast of warm air. I often invent reasons to go on short excursions in the car; to the dé chetterie or a supermarché , just so I can whack the car heater on and defrost. Our log burners can create a satisfactory level of heat in the room they are situated, but as you walk up the wooden hi...