Apparently there is a north south divide afterall. On a night when we return from work to find the house at a chilly 14c/57f, I get a text from my Aged Pops boasting he is in SSSV&S. At 77 going on 100, Dad has more abbreviations under his belt that your average street hoody. My Husband has given up trying to de-code these messages when they come through, although for me I seem to know precisely what he means (it must be because we're related)... simples.
SSSV&S? Short sleeve shirt, vest and shorts.
It's 71f in his sitting room, apparently. He does confess to having a cardigan on as the evening draws on, and a blanket over his knees. Lucky him.
In Yorkshire, we're flicking the heating on for a quick burst while I cook dinner, sipping Peppermint tea to keep warm and hoping Grace doesn't wriggle out of her sleeping bag in the night and wake up with her nose frozen to the bedsheet where she's dribbled.
We're pretty tight when it comes to heating. Well, I am. My Husband is Mr Frosty and would have the thermostat set to 70f all day long. I overruled him. told him to layer up and bought him longjohns to ram the message home.
BRRRRRRR! Winter is coming.
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