Snug in the Fug

London

Novelty of the moment: leaving perishables outside on the window sill to keep them cool.

We ostensibly travel to discover things about the world and unfamiliar cultures, but in that process discover something about ourselves. As I've mentioned before, I've spend most of my 35 years in a subtropical climate. Since spending the past three months in nippier regions I've realised that I don't much like heating. I've been vaguely aware of this prior to now, but it's only just made the short but significant journey into my conscious mind.

Houses in my corner of the globe are not designed for cold weather, as a general rule. And personally I've never owned a heater. During the course of the annual six-week period we refer to -- for convenience -- as "winter", to alleviate the chill Banana Benders will shut the windows at night, pull on a pair of slippers and a jumper and be done with it. The rest of the world, I'm realising, will not only slam the windows shut, but leave them that way until summer, then crank up the thermostat to a torrid level and be content to breathe the same thick, stale air for six months. This bikini-clad, mango-suckin' babe can taste it, and she doesn't like it one bit. This comes to mind as I sit in my now-hot hotel room; I shivered and tossed under my paultry allocation of one blanket last night, but couldn't quite bring myself to flick the oil heater on. Tonight I conceded -- I'll sleep snug, but I'll greet the day grimy in a close fug of stale snores and steamy socks.

Tip for Happy Living: worrying about the trivial takes your mind off the real problems.