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 déchetterie 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 hill to Bedfordshire at the end of the day, you can feel the temperature drop with every step. When we first moved into our granite house, there was no insulation and the external doors didn't fit, for all intents and purposes we might as well have been living outside. In fact it is often less cold outside than in our granite ice box. Even though we now have insulation, 'toasty' is not a word I would use to describe our bedroom - but at least we won't die of hyperthermia. 

Our bath was out of action recently so it was showers all the way. When exiting the cubicle, the wall of cold air that hits you is akin to jumping into a Scandinavian plunge pool. 

The thin jumpers I moved over here with have been exchanged for the thickest of wefts. I find 'layering' is the secret to survival. Thermal vest, T-shirt, shirt, jumper, booster jumper, gilet and woollen hat is my indoors outfit, add a thick thermal jacket, scarf and gloves and you've got my outdoor look, although I have been known to bring the outdoors inside on occasion. My restricted movement caused by all these garments is outweighed by the modicum of heat generated. 

Although we order copious amounts of logs from our woodman and see him every month*, I can often be found roaming the outhouses looking for things to burn, for that extra boost. Like in The Great Escape when any excess wood is removed to shore up the escape tunnels, anything I find in the barns which I don't believe is structural will make it's way into the log burner. 

So as everyone is constantly telling each other to “stay safe” these days, my sign-off will be “stay warm”. 

* We have a theory that we get more wood if we order six loads of two steres, rather than twelve. We have no evidence or proof, it's just a feeling.