Winter fuel
Sir: Sitting by a blazing log fire on Boxing Day, I read with piquant interest the remarks in 'Spectator's notebook' (27 December) about the demise of the Yule Log; about the virtues of its disappearance in „favour of central heating; and about the pains of arctic bedrooms. Strange, I thought, this characteristic English habit of justi- fying—nay, canonising—every change in our national habits that we secretly regret.
I glanced round at the darkening room, revealed cheerfully by the leaping flames, thought comfortably of the stacked pile of sawn billets in the hall, and of the plentiful supply of further timber for the rest of the winter, and wondered, what on earth was central heating to this?
I do get central heating by going each late afternoon into the woods, dragging out trunks and boughs of suitable girth, carrying them to my saw-horse, then with a keen Swedish blade, cutting them into eighteen- inch lengths. It keeps my waist-line down too. But as to burning the stuff, I will let you into a secret. It is to get the latest type of under-floor-draught fireplace of the widest pattern, fitted with a butterfly air- valve to regulate air supply. Closed, a mere trickle of air keeps the fire smouldering; full open, it blazes like a blacksmith's forge. Half open is just right for sheer perfection. With the logs laid horizontally and piled, you have a slow-burning mass of flame that makes you set your chair back. You declare for Yule Logs all through the winter.
As to 'arctic bedrooms', what on earth is wrong with that? Bedrooms should be arctic. The sudden shock one feels on en- tering a cold room after leaving a warm one is entirely beneficial and tonic provided one immediately takes action to avoid chill. A proof of this is the common experience of getting between icy cold sheets on going to bed. The first shivery sensation of cold is followed almost immediately by drowsy and delicious warmth as the peripheral circulation reacts to it. It is not the people who sleep in cold rooms who are con- tinually getting 'colds'.
In spite of having all these enjoyments,
of alternating cold stimulation and en- veloping heat, I do not think, despite the Romans, that I am less civilised. Or is my readership of the SPECTATOR a sign of deterioration? If it is, I must confess that
with a glorious hearth in front of me, tea- tray at elbow, the lamps lighted, and your Christmas number in my hand, I like it.
Harold McCrone Laxton, Northants
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