The Great November Heating Negotiations

Every November, I become involved in a domestic argument that nobody has actually started.

It’s about the heating.

Not whether we can afford to have it on, because that’s a serious conversation and not one I’m making light of. No, this is about the mysterious temperature at which a perfectly reasonable Welsh household collectively decides it’s freezing.

Apparently, we all have different definitions.

I can be standing in the living room thinking it’s quite pleasant, while someone else appears wearing a dressing gown, carrying a blanket and looking as though they’ve just returned from an expedition to the Arctic.

“Is the heating on?”

That’s never really a question, is it? It’s an accusation with a question mark.

I explain that the house isn’t cold. I’m informed that my hands are warm because I’ve been washing up. This is apparently scientific evidence that I cannot be trusted to assess the climate.

Then comes the thermostat inspection.

I don’t know why we all stare at that little screen as though it’s going to reveal something extraordinary. It’s a thermostat, not a medical consultant. Yet there we stand, studying the numbers, offering opinions and occasionally pressing buttons with absolutely no understanding of what we’ve just changed.

The funniest thing is that nobody wants to admit they’re the one who turned it up.

The heating mysteriously comes on, the radiators get warm, and suddenly everyone develops a remarkable lack of interest in the subject.

Meanwhile, I’ve opened a window because the kitchen feels like Tenerife.

Which, naturally, causes outrage.

“Why have you got the window open when the heating’s on?”

Because I’m cooking, there’s steam everywhere, and I’d rather not have the wallpaper peeling off, thank you.

And there it is. The great November contradiction. We’re apparently too cold, too hot and wasting energy, all within the same fifteen minutes.

I used to think being organised meant having everything under control. These days, I reckon it means accepting that some household disagreements will never have a winner.

Although I’ve discovered one thing that brings everyone together.

The moment I suggest we all put another jumper on, suddenly nobody’s cold enough to need one.

Tell me, who’s in charge of the thermostat in your house, and does anyone actually listen to them?