David's
Mental Meanderings 1st February
2000 I live in a modern British house. We
have no central heat, dishwasher, tumble dryer, or shower. Most
British homes do have central heat. "Central heat" in this country does
not mean big ducts running through the walls and ceiling blowing warm air. Almost
universally in Britain it means water-heated radiators. The boiler is usually
on a timer which is set to go off during the night. This is of course when the
atmosphere (both inside and out) tends to be at its coldest. Seems to me like
this would be the best time for it to come on rather than go off. Instead, the
British seem to glory in having houses so cold you almost have to chip away the
icicles if you want to visit the potty in the middle of the night. Ah,
but I digress. As I mentioned, we have no central heat. This means it is quite
comfortable to wear a jacket or sweater indoors most of the time. I keep my gloves
handy. The heat in our bedroom is an open-flame gas-operated space heater. Not
the wisest thing to keep on all night. A bald head straying from under the covers
can quickly lead to hypothermia. And of course it's best not to have too many
cups of tea before bedtime. A dishwasher really
isn't necessary. And for most Britons hot water really isn't necessary for dishwashing,
either. That's the bit that bothers me. Both my wife and our landlady think me
most peculiar for my odd habit of rinsing the dishes as well. Mrs. Holford, claiming
to draw upon her expertise in biology, is convinced that dishwashing liquid is
perfectly safe for human consumption and a little bad taste shouldn't matter.
You may be aware that Britain has two types of
weather: wet and, well, very wet. Thus an outdoor clothesline is of little of
use. Allegedly, there is a clotheslines in the back garden and I look forward
to its use on both days of summer this year (if the long-range forecast is correct,
but we know how unreliable weathermen are). Otherwise, the clothes dry over the
course of several days on wire racks in the bathroom. Well, at least it seems
like several days. Why don't we have a dishwasher
or dryer? I'm not sure where we - or in this case, our landlady - would put them.
Space is at a premium, inside and out. Motion
pictures which depict Britain usually show large country homes situated on vast
estates. They do exist, or so I've heard. Most of Britain is cramped. Very cramped.
Let's talk numbers. The population density here
exceeds 625 persons per square mile. Ninety percent of the population live in
urban areas. By contrast the density of the US is 74 persons per square mile with
75 percent in urban areas. Here's a little more
perspective: about 84% of the UK population lives in England. Take away Scotland
and Wales (with no offence intended to the Scots and Welsh) and density is over
960 persons per square mile. England is a little smaller than Arkansas, which
has 44 persons per square mile. Most people in Britain (welcoming the Celtic fringe
back into our story) live in tiny little houses situated very close together.
Space is a major issue in many areas of life here and I shall likely mention it
in the future. One convenience not particularly
dependent upon additional space is a shower. Some homes in Britain do have them.
My father-in-law has had one for over four years. It's still in the box. There
are lots of different shower models on sale at hardware stores. They are all electrical
and when actually installed somehow tie into the 240-volt mains from the wall
next to the bathtub. (Is it just me, or does this seem dangerous?) Invariably,
they have several different knobs and buttons which allegedly perform different
wonderful functions related to temperature and volume. In truth, however you set
them, it is freezing cold, then blistering hot, and just enough water drips out
to dampen tiny portions of the head or body at any given moment. Anyhow,
you know what I have noticed most about the modern conveniences we don't have?
I don't miss them. After just a couple of months, I hardly think of them. Okay,
I miss the central heat. |