Tuesday, September 28, 2010
One thing I'm finding quite a relief as the days get longer, colder and greyer - sweet baby Jesus, the grey - is that I live in a first world country.
Which means one thing. Heating.
One of the most common conversations I am finding myself having at the moment is this:
Pommy person: So how are you going to cope wiff the winter here then?
Peas: By turning on the heating.
Pommy: Yeah but no but yeah...in Souff Africa it's like the tropics innit.
Peas: Well you'll probably find that South Africa is actually quite far down from the equator mate.
Pommy: Yeah but it's the tropics there innit.
Peas: In the mornings and evenings, Joburg during winter is fucking freezing.
Pommy: Yeah woh'eva mate. You don't know what freezing is.
Peas: It gets to negative three during the night. And that's on average.
Pomnmy: Phwoar. Child's play.
Pommy: Inside where?
Peas: My house.
Pommy: Oh right, this is where you tell me you all live in mud huts.
Peas: I lived in a flat made from bricks, and I even had a marble counter top. [eyes briefly glaze over as I remember my beautiful non-digslike flat in Craighall]
Pommy: Yeah, so didn't you 'av heating?
Peas: No dude. You either buy a heater, or you just get on with it. Only those with big houses and lots of money have underfloor heating.
Pommy: That's ridiculous.
Peas: It's Africa mate. You guys don't know anything about air-con now do you.
My Brit got wind of how cold 'Africa' can be when he visited me during the World Cup. Forty eight hours later, after shivvering in my flat, he bust out and bought a heater.
But now I have this awesome little wall furnace in my room that I can balance things on. Like ornaments that aren't flammable. Or wine.
My housemates have to show me how to use it though. They said we'd need to have a meeting to show the Saffa how the heating works.