I was grumbling that the system of heating in America was not as efficient as in England.
Our flat in London was always warm the radiators gave off heat and thawed us out when we came home cold after an afternoon of sledding or simply walking up the hill from shopping on the high street, our faces frozen by the biting wind.
“As warm as a nursing home!” my friend said of her house in Brighton currently being battered by gales gusting in off the English Channel.
“I can’t get mine above 62 degrees,” I moaned over the telephone.
“That is a bit cold you need it to be at least 70!”
I nodded and looked up at the heating vents in my ceiling and wondered where the hot air in the nether reaches of my room was going?
I toyed with joining the dog, clad in a coat and lying in the sun,
‘Don’t even think about it!’ his look said.
“I can’t put radiators in,” I complained to my brother, “Don’t they have to be installed during construction?”
“Nooo…remember we didn’t add central heating to our house until we were in our late teens?”
“Shoot yes, it was always freezing in our bedrooms first thing in the morning…” a chill crept over me.
We hadn’t been issued fleece lined slippers, woolen dressing gowns and electric blankets for laughs!
I looked over at Callie basking on the windowsill,
She had the right idea!
“Are you sure it’s not your compressor going out,” asked a friend one day over lunch, “I mean, it hasn’t been that cold…” I shivered at the thought of my glacial house.
“Nah, bad design!” I said and went home.
“Do you think we should check the heat pump?” I asked Hubs the next morning when I awoke to a perishing 55 degrees.
I quelled my impulse to crawl back into my warm bed and Hubs and I wrapped scarves securely around our necks and went outside to inspect the unit.
Kaput!
We dragged out the three space heaters taking refuge in our closets and set them up in the kitchen and bedroom and managed to coax the thermostat up to a blistering 64 degrees. It took all day!
We shut the doors in the back of the house and I retreated to my electrically blanketed office-bed with my computer.
American Home Shield sent a repairman the next day who confirmed our suspicions and promised us a new compressor after the weekend.
“Use your Emergency Heat until then, that’s what it’s for…” he said feeling sorry for the two of us shivering in our hallway bundled up as if for an assault on Everest.
We survived another four days and I put all thoughts of the electric bill from my mind.
The heat now works so well I take back all my earlier derogatory remarks about American heating systems.
“I’m betting it hasn’t worked properly since we first started using it in November!” I remarked looking with satisfaction at the 70 degrees registering on my thermostat.
Callie curled up in a chair and basked contentedly under one of the ceiling vents.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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2016-02-01 15:32:31
All it takes is money – to fix things, once you know they are broken.
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