I’m tempted to put the heat back on.
It’s so incredibly hard to swallow when we read in the news almost daily how the different energy giants are all posting record profits and most of us literally can’t afford to put the heating on, even the privileged toffos like me. The prices went up for the energy companies so yeah they put the prices up for the customers plus a bit more cos hey that’s business. The boneless Westminster adultchildren can’t even countenance taxing them properly because John Maynard Keynes had that fucking idea back at Cambridge that doesn’t work. And all the people who were rich a generation ago get richer and warmer and happier and emptier.
I’m too cold to use more than the little bit of my flat that is covered in soft material and underheated. “Buy Lakeland heated throws,” the internet tells me because apparently the solution always has to be spending money. I’m really starting to think that the solution might be fire. Burn them all! We can warm up while we do it.
Lou is here. “Can we go to bed now, I’ve realised I’m exhausted just from trying to keep warm,” she said after her second cup of chamomile tea. It’s lovely having her in London but I want to be able to host her properly here. I just don’t like the cold. Surely Spring soon now? They’ve started selling daffodils in Marks and Spencers. That’s a sign. Spring and two months of rain and then there’ll be a day and a half of sun in August and everybody will be too busy working to notice.
I stood in a huge great big hall in Walworth and pumped out energy like a great big mushroom pumping spores. About 100 young adults all had something different for a couple of hours and I lost my voice a bit but it was good and positive and often funny and I’m ok about that and I was warm while I was working. I was talking about sustainable energy and getting them to talk about electric vehicles and I was enthusing about Extreme-e and getting them enthused about that and I finished work and just wanted to jump in the Thames but instead I went and got Lou and we cooked a lovely meal. She’s on the clock, being paid well, not needed yet. Tomorrow she will likely be working late in North London and I’ll be driving all over the place. All will be well. I’m not that pissed off I’m just writing raw and in a rush so I can put this down and get on with the business of not having the light on.
It’ll warm up. And Majorca is about to confirm and it’ll be warm there. All is well. Bedtime.