In the chiller

Yesterday the great big thermostat in the sky got turned down a few notches. December in Britain and it's chilly - who'd have thought it?

But it was the suddenness that struck everyone. On Monday it was a bit grim but manageable. A bit like having to do algebra back at school. But yesterday was the equivalent of triple geography. In a dangerously unheated classroom. There's only so much terminal moraine you can deal with.

I don't believe it. I've actually crossed the line and I'm now making glacial deposit references. Look out for an oxbow lake soon, folks.

Anyway. Yesterday was that first day of the year when you leave your house to find a layer of ice on your windscreen. That is of course assuming you actually have a windscreen. Or, indeed, a car. Thinking about it, just having a windscreen on its own propped up in your driveway would be a little bit 'out there', but each to his own, that's what I say.

Along with the vehicular difficulties, there's the sheer bloody coldness to deal with. We'd left it until last night to bring out the winter duvet. This is a serious bit of kit, approximately three feet thick and capable of withstanding the worst the climate can throw at us. Katie, having been visited by the Can't Be Arsed Fairy, decided to throw this on top of the summer duvet, rather than replacing it. It was like trying to sleep while a farmyard animal lies on your chest.

And I thought those days were over, quite frankly.

I was reminded that duvets have tog ratings - a measure of how good they are at keeping the heat in. But what is one tog? Where did it come from? The internet is here to help - apparently one tog is the measure of heat retention from a set of standard army battledress. So essentially I was going to bed with the equivalent of 15 soldiers last night.

I mean, I support our armed forces, but even I have to draw the line somewhere.