Like Janice, I’m not turning my heating on until November. And when my husband is away, I turn the hot water off too, run a cold bath and immerse myself in that daily, sometimes adding ice-cubes for the burn.
I am a member of a club and often slink off there until lunchtime, and then feel I should vacate for those who are going to eat at a table rather than tap at a laptop, eeking out a flat white. Indeed, when I suggested this to another pensioner who lives on her own in Dorset, and can’t afford to put the heating on, she replied: “But I’m agoraphobic. I haven’t left the house since the pandemic.”
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