I would like, here and now, to make this solemn vow in the form of a public announcement: I love my convection heater.
In these frozen times and frozen climes, there are few worse places to be than my bedroom, which (although it looks quite nice aesthetically when lit up with all four bulbs) has three outside walls, so that (despite my parents' repetition that they've turned the heating on and I shouldn't be cold, and am I actually part lizard?) I am effectively living in a block of ice. In which the radiator doesn't work. Or at least it does, but all its heat range covers is one corner of my bed and a box full of sex toys. It is a weedy radiator.
As you may know if you have been paying attention, I have both been entertaining H and having feathers drawn across my naked body this weekend, making it necessary to have some form of heat source in the centre of my room, bringing glorious warmth to all and sundry, negating the minus zero temperatures we appear to have started getting recently...
(Seriously. I started walking to my new job this morning through Central London and some people were wearing snow shoes. Honest. As sure as I'm riding this bicycle.)
...which is where my convection heater comes in.
Sick of having me walk into his study and let out the refrain of, "oooh, it's nice and warm in here!" in an exaggerated voice only matched in impact by saying "this is the quicksand room" in a low voice from your stomach (try it, it's amazing), my dad finally suggested I "borrow" his convection heater, and he'd use the one from the attic, now my cousin has moved out of it permanently and we know it works (it used to be mine). I accepted this offer, and instantly regretted doing so when it turned out that this heater was about as effective as Nick Clegg's 2010 election promises.
It took you about a few seconds to work out what I should have done, didn't it? Took me about a week. It was only after seven days of considering setting myself on fire to realise that if I liked the old convection heater, I should just go and take it, returning my dad's one at the same time.
So I did.
And now I have not only the wonderful effect of being able to say, "it's a jungle out there!" whenever the hot air blasts my face as I enter my room, I am also able to be naked and sexy in the comfort of my own room...
...which, let's face it, is what winter is all about.