Monday, 19 December 2011


Normally I’m a fun-loving kind of gal. I like playing mummies and daddies. I like doing the matrimonial polka. I like taking a turn on the hobbyhorse. 

I say normally, because there are three exceptions to this rule. These are a) during the first 12 weeks of pregnancy; b) during any episode of d&v but especially when it's that motherfucker Norovirus; c) when it’s cold.

There is NO WAY I’m lifting up my petticoats and/or traditional cotton winceyette full-length long-sleeved nightdress* in this weather.  I like my body the way it is, thanks very much, not all blue and puffy and lifeless. As it happens, I think my partner feels the same way. Yesterday he bought a Dreamland luxury super-king-size heated mattress cover, which has five settings, including a super-fast pre-heat option, a dual control unit that allows each side of the bed to be set at different temperatures, an all-night timer, an elasticated skirt, and an extra foot warmth section. Which says it all. 

You see, there was a time when an electric blanket that you could leave-on-all-night would have been a diabolical health and safety hazard, if you know what I mean.  

It helps neither of us that my personal hygiene takes a nosedive in the cold.

Take a shower? Are you crazy?  Why not water-board myself in the face with jugs of liquid nitrogen? Why not drill myself a bathing hole in the eastern Antarctica ice mass? Listen, I can't even extend a bare arm into the shower cubicle to turn the water on. I say water, but it's not water, not really. It is the Icy Ejaculate of the Antichrist. (Sometimes I try disassociating myself from my arm. No no no, I say to myself, it doesn’t matter that there are horizontal jets of satanic spume pounding against your skin, because it isn’t your arm!! It is a joke arm, a prosthetic limb. Just look at it dangling there, white and pimply, with shameful little brown hairs standing on end, ha ha ha, ha ha ha!!!) 

I will concede, of course, that things are momentarily better once you’re in the shower, once the violent shivering and the mental confusion abates. But then, I have to step out again. Like Captain Oates. 

I find the bath less distressing, but only marginally. You still have to get out, goddamit.  You still have about 30 seconds to acclimatize before you experience total cellular and metabolic shut down. And of course, the towel heater is never on, is it?  

It is an absolute nightmare. So I stay dirty. And not in that way. Not til spring...

* I forgot to say that the winceyette nightdress of which I speak also features a delicate and very flattering pink floral print. (Oh, god, no! Get a friggin tissue for godsakes!) 

PS: My partner has just pointed out that he bought the Dreamland luxury heated mattress cover for me - and me only. There is never any diminishment of his sex drive in the cold, he says. He has never even heated his side of the mattress. Like Bear Grylls, he would probably prefer to spend the night suspended from a bivoucac on an ice shelf in the south pole. What a guy.  


  1. Honestly what men will do for a bit of extra rumpy pumpy - still a nice warm mattress sounds lovely. I had no idea a heated bed blanket could be so hi- tech. I don't do cold either, and my nipples certainly don't ... frozen nipples are rather painful. I remember a particularly nasty case of 'blue chest' in front of the fridge section at a Sainsburys on route to a holiday cottage in Wales during my second trimester. Younger Dad had to cup both hands over my boobs as I walked hurridly around the supermarket shoving things into the basket. I had to take an immediate steaming hot shower as soon as we arrived at our destination. My nipples were still blue and purple. It hurt. My favourite line from this post has to be ... 'the Icy Ejaculate of the Antichrist'.

  2. OMG and ouch! I didn't know nipples could do that! I definitely didn't know that the fridge section at Sainsbury's could be so arousing either! Anyway, hope you have a lovely Christmas. Not sure if I'll manage another blog before Xmas, but I shall try!! xx

  3. Don't forget to ditch the razor. Winceyette is a bold barricade against the chill, but it worked best with a thick winter pelt bristling beneath it. As for sex, I'm no expert, but my grandmother recommended waiting until May.

  4. In addition to growing a thick winter pelt, I am also working on building up my subcutaneous fat stores, especially around my thighs and buttocks, as I'm told it has insulating properties. So, to recap, winceyette, hair, and fat. That should do it. x

  5. Brrr!
    I resorted to laying my dressing gown over the duvet last night and then put my arms through the sleeves while i read (slanket style). I looked damn sexy !

  6. I hope you were also wearing bed socks. Remember to keep them on during lovemaking. It adds frisson to the occasion x

  7. Ooooh Five I like your style! We got an electric blanket last year - it has impvoved my night-time activity no-end! I am always a sweaty heap of rapid heartbeat at some point in the night. Until I remember to switch off the electric blanket!

  8. I'm very very jealous of that electric blanket. I've just got my first and it's the basic bog-standard version. I'd give the hubby jiggy jiggy every night* if he bought me one of those bad boys!

    *unless he's reading this

  9. I forgot to mention that whilst the Dreamland has five settings (Actually Mummy), it is AS NOTHING compared with the number of settings offered by my other night-time friend, Lelo, who has eight settings. (And who was also introduced to me by my partner, whom I shall now call, Mr Mixed Messages).