When I got up this morning the thermometer on the bedroom wall read 15.7°C, and the kitchen was no warmer. By the time Eric had left with Ingrid to take her to the nursery and I had started working, the living room temperature had risen to 17.5°C. Cold enough that my fingers were too stiff to type comfortably.

So I turned on the heating. It’s only September (barely!) and the heating is already turned on. The heating bill for this house is going to be enormous!