Jack Frost

I thought this a very Lowry-esque scene greeting me this morning as I opened the blinds and looked out at the frosty Meadows.

It was so cold that it reminded me of my childhood days waking up with a cold nose to find thick frost on the inside the windows and having my day clothes warming in my bed under the quilt.
There was no central heating, and taking the chill off the bathroom in the early days an old fashioned oil heater and latterly a fan heater with its flex trailing out the door to the nearest socket, but that was mainly for my father who had to spend the longest time in the bathroom shaving.
Bed attire consisted of warm pyjamas topped with an old woolly jumper, bed socks and a lovely hot water bottle. Should you dare to read in bed, then gloves were an advantage.

There was never any question of our family of four spending time separately in any other room but the living room - no time sitting in a bedroom on your own unless you fancied a touch of frost bite.
We all sat together round the coal fire to keep warm. Homework was done at the table with a background of radio and other people's conversations.

At Christmas, my father would make the perilous journey through the hall to the sitting room carrying a shovel full of burning coal to light the fire there.
Happy days, but cold ones too. Thank goodness for central heating.