A freezing childhood casts a long, cold shadow

Growing up in a home without heat is a blight that can last a lifetime, writes Melanie Reid

- Melanie Reid

Not a day has gone by this month when I haven’t muttered words of gratitude for our new accessible house. Building it was fraught and financially ruinous but it is transformational in one primary regard: its warmth.

Not since I worked in an office, or since my long stay in hospital, have I been so effortlessly warm in winter. This defines luxury: the blissful ubiquity of underfloor heat, climbing towards 21C when we get up, declining as we go to bed. Like all spinal patients, I suffer badly from the cold. Here I find myself opened up physically: my shoulders back, my arms spread, I relax. No more hunching, tight upon myself, hampered by jumpers, always seeking radiators or stoves to hug.