“Why is the bloody heating on again?” my wife mumbled, turning over in bed at 4am. “It could be malfunctioning,” I replied as confidently as possible.
It wasn’t malfunctioning. As we were both well aware, sophisticated digital thermostats don’t usually switch themselves on in the middle of the night.
I had, of course, secretly programmed it to switch on. And, when I was sure she wasn’t looking, I picked up my smartphone and frantically clicked on my Nest app to turn the heating off.
And so it is in the Byers household at this time of year.
When it comes to turning on the heating I am two things: a pathetic wimp and wilfully Pollyannaish about our large energy bills (meaning I am in a state of extreme denial and try not to read them).
My wife is two very different things: she is someone who would rather put on two jumpers and a woolly hat at home and a studious reader of our energy bills.
I told her I was writing this column. She said that she was fine with it, as long as I talk about how I’m so wasteful I “go through a whole bottle of washing-up liquid per week, buy bottled water, print reams of stuff for no reason and don’t compost food waste”. All of which are absolutely disgraceful slurs.
As the cold snap descends, whether or not to turn the heating on has once again become the topic of conversation (or, put more accurately, a fair bit of shouting) in our home.
Among my colleagues it has also come up as a topic. Two of them, who live in well-insulated flats, have a firm policy not to turn on the heating until November 1. One of them wraps themselves in two duvets and stays motivated by thinking of people less fortunate than themselves.
One of my hardier colleagues, a country dweller, says: “I grew up in Dorset and I’m very much in the ‘put another sweater on’ camp.” A further colleague daringly turned their heating on for two hours, miserably read on their smart meter that it had cost £2.12,then turned it off again. And the last proclaimed (dubiously, in my view) that her flat is so well insulated she has “never turned the heating on, apart from when the man from Eon has come to check it’s actually working”.
Talking to these colleagues, and my environmentalist wife (by whom I was chastised only this morning for giving the kids paper towels to wipe their hands rather than flannels at breakfast), I’m beginning to come to a painful realisation. That, like many curmudgeonly Gen Xers in middle age, I’m a relic of a different era. My conduct is out of touch with the realities of the modern world. I’m an analogue man in a digital world. What some call a classic centrist dad.
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So what realities am I ignoring when jacking up the thermostat? Well, first and foremost and most obviously, bills. After the misery of last winter — the first since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, during which energy bills rocketed — prices have mercifully become a little cheaper, but they’re still much more expensive than they were before the war began and most analysts predict prices will rise again in January. And, of course, that crucial government financial help that took £400 off our bills last winter was withdrawn in July. Britain and much of the western world needs to urgently realign our energy supply, much of which we recklessly placed in the hands of autocrats, and that will take a long while. Plus, global instability continues to increase. Natural gas prices in Europe have climbed over the past week, amid fears that Hamas’s terrorist actions in Israel could trigger a regional war.
And then there’s global warming. Regretfully I have to admit my wife is right (if a tad dramatic) when she said to me this week, upon spotting the radiators mysteriously being turned on: “At least you’ll have your wish of keeping our children warm — they’ll be positively roasting all year round by 2050.” Most scientists seem to agree that if everyone set their thermostats to 19C (about 1-2 degrees lower than the average British house) it could make a significant difference to carbon dioxide emissions.
That hardly seems a hardship. And none of it means I have to become like a deeply irritating friend of mine, who drones on every single winter until just before Christmas that they still haven’t turned on the heating, while dressing like a suburban Ernest Shackleton in coat, scarf and hat.
Everyone knows someone like that but I wasn’t the slightest bit impressed, I can tell you. I will never spend my evening virtue-shivering under a blanket in the living room — even if it would get me a few clicks on social media.
But I will take the hint (or the abuse at home) and I’ll compromise. Despite my instincts as a middle-aged curmudgeon, I need to be responsible.
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And so, reluctantly, I have told my wife I’ll turn the heating down and put on a jumper.
Facing accusations of “breathtaking selfishness” I have acted, reluctantly, in the interest of both prudence and marital harmony.
Have you turned your heating on yet? Do you and your partner have differing ideas on heating? Tell us in the comments below
