Doing our bit for global warming.....

Stray brought back a little gift from her trip to Boston this summer.

Bob* is the best alarm clock I have ever had. He is shaped like a weeble (he wobbles but he doesn't fall down) and has a clever little button on his back giving you access to a variety of functions which you will soon wonder how you lived without. 

Bob's timer mode is invaluable for those times when you are cooking a four-minute boiled egg whilst lying in bed. (We don't use this as often as we might, as Badger has a remarkable gift for judging the exact time an egg needs to be boiled for. She gives it a quick weigh in her hand, declares the amount of boiling it requires and then executes it with precision. Nor does she require me to get out of bed. It is one of the many reasons we will never let anyone steal away our Badger. )

Bob also has a date/year mode. I can't actually think of an occasion when I have needed to know the exact date on the moment of waking - heavens above, is today the date of the American election or is it bonfire night? - but I often wake and wonder what year it is - it's 2008: that means I am a proper grown-up and have a job to go to. Bugger. 

Bob's most useful function - apart from the obvious waking-me-up-in-the-morning part - is that he tells us the temperature.

At first it was fun.  Ooh, Bob says it's 15 Celsius in our bedroom. I would never have known that otherwise. Thank you lovely Bob. 

Then it got serious.

On Wednesday morning Bob informed me it was 12 Celsius. It's a bit parky, said Bob. I suggest you jump straight into the shower or you'll freeze your bits off. 

On Thursday morning Bob informed me it was 11 Celsius. It's more than parky, said Bob. Get dressed under the covers and forget the shower 'cos the bathroom's no warmer. No-one will ever know....oh, and by the way it's 2008 and you are a proper grown-up with a job to go to. Sorry. 

On Friday morning Bob informed me it was 10 Celsius. In my bedroom. Are you completely mad, asked Bob? This is not a house, this is a milking shed. Someone has merely persuaded you it is a house with the clever addition of some windows and a kitchen. You are insane to live here. I suggest you stay in bed, call in sick and ride it out. It can only get warmer. (We know it is a milking shed, by the way, because Daddy Farmer tells us every time he sees us that he used to milk his cows in our living room.)

From November 1st landlords in the UK will be required to issue their tenants with energy efficiency certificates, assessing the property on an efficiency rating from A to G.  We suspect our landlord may have to apply for a new 'H' rating, applicable only to cow sheds. 

And so we are braving the arctic weather with only a log fire and some outrageously expensive night storage heaters for company. Thank heavens for n-a-p, is all I can say. 

*Those of you who bothered to follow the link will note that Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought..........High School Musical? I await my Christmas present with baited breath....