Doughnut of doom

<<<<WARNING - EXTREMELY RUSTY BLOGGER POSTING AGAIN >>>>Like most poor sods working in and around the financial services industry, recent months have found me somewhat pre-occupied with dodging the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune'... and yes, it has been very much like the performance of a Shakespearean tragedy.... bank bosses entering stage right offering long-winded mea culpas,... the tortured Alistair 'Prince of the Treasury' Darling talking to himself in a dark corner stage left, the dark eyebrows contorting like two fat caterpillars trying to get past one another on a very skinny branch,... and Gordon Brown, entering to the beat of drums, announcing that all is saved,... maybe,.... well, most of it is saved, but there are a few small bits and pieces which may, in the fullness of time, and with the full analysis of the boffins back at the office, and subject to some 5 simple tests, may need to, perhaps, well, be (whispered tone) nationalised for a short period of time.... but wait, have you met the lovely Sarah Brown???? .... Gordo demonstrating the art of distraction.....Anyway.... in response to the tighter economic circumstances, the Fereday household has battened down the hatches... we are becoming models of frugality, imbued with a sense of restraint! And the only time I really regret this new austerity is at about 2:30 in the morning when pressing need overwhelms me and I have to get out of bed to visit the 'frozen doughnut of doom'. It's true that we've turned off the radiators in all the rooms that we don't regularly use, but we never had any source of heat in the bathroom and Chr*st Almighty it's bl**dy cold in there of a nighttime. Business finished, it's a sprint back into the bedroom, dive under the duvet and steal the hot water bottle from under Fereday's hobbit feet (which is where it usually ends up, no matter where it started out in the bed).Which brings me to the subject of this blog - the hot water bottle - it's fantastic!We have five - a velvet encased one for our bed which is very, very lovely and is now called 'Mildred', one for each of the rabbits (retro polka dot fleece covers) and a spare for the guest bedroom. The rabbits only have bottles when it's really bitter, living as they do in the warmest room in the house and wearing little fur coats.... But Mildred comes to bed with Fereday and I almost every night.With Christmas around the corner, family and friends are descending on us at an increasingly frequent rate, and the guest bottle is starting to get some regular use. Guests seem to think it's very sweet when they go up to retire and find a hot water bottle snuggled up under the covers - all part of the Fereday visitor experience - very quaint and reminiscient of times gone by... some even get a bit misty with the retro loveliness of it.... I like to thing they drift off to sleep with memories of wooden toys, times gone by, etc, etc....Then - comes the witching hour - about 2:30 in the morning..... just as I'm cursing myself for the last cup of tea before bed,.... I hear hurried footsteps across the hall towards the bathroom, followed by an "whispered" expletive and / or whimpers of pain, followed by a flush, then a dash,... and I know that guest has just got the point (and the Frozen Doughnut of Doom has claimed another victim).... Hot water bottles are not a retro nicety.... they're a necessity!

Harrah, your back!

‘Hotties’, that’s what we called them.

My Grandma and Grandpa lived in South Wales but moved, in their eighties, to Cambridge to be near our family. Hotties were a part of bedtime in their un-heated little terraced house along with cold and damp sheets, prickly blankets, eiderdowns, big-framed sepia photos of scary great-grandparents and a cracked po under the bed.

Grandma was so frightened of the rubber bag exploding and burning our little feet or tummies, that she filled it with luke warm water from the tap. Needless to say, we clung to our Hottie for grim death (in case he came to claim us in that very cold bedroom) but mainly to absorb any faint heat that bag held.

I am very envious of your luxurious velvet encased ‘Mildred’ along with the very hip retro model, but can’t help wondering, couldn’t you get the lovely bunnies to stretch out limbs akimbo on top of your bed providing you with a bunny wrap? Can’t say it would help with the 2am dash to the Frozen Doughnut of Doom but your room could be the warmest in the house to come back to.

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Comments

Kerrie John-The garden design Co November 23, 2008 at 7:46pm

Harrah, your back!

‘Hotties’, that’s what we called them.

My Grandma and Grandpa lived in South Wales but moved, in their eighties, to Cambridge to be near our family. Hotties were a part of bedtime in their un-heated little terraced house along with cold and damp sheets, prickly blankets, eiderdowns, big-framed sepia photos of scary great-grandparents and a cracked po under the bed.

Grandma was so frightened of the rubber bag exploding and burning our little feet or tummies, that she filled it with luke warm water from the tap. Needless to say, we clung to our Hottie for grim death (in case he came to claim us in that very cold bedroom) but mainly to absorb any faint heat that bag held.

I am very envious of your luxurious velvet encased ‘Mildred’ along with the very hip retro model, but can’t help wondering, couldn’t you get the lovely bunnies to stretch out limbs akimbo on top of your bed providing you with a bunny wrap? Can’t say it would help with the 2am dash to the Frozen Doughnut of Doom but your room could be the warmest in the house to come back to.
James November 24, 2008 at 3:47pm

Lol, I know where your coming from with the frozen doughnut of doom .. its not fun !
Cat Fereday December 2, 2008 at 8:02pm

A bunny wrap is, in theory, a lovely idea.... however, for it to work requires bunnies to (1) not fight, (2) not nibble indiscriminately, and (3) not poop!!!