The Second Year and After Chapter 78
Despite cuddling up close under our quilt, Julie and I were both uncomfortably cold when we woke up on Monday morning. Two and a half weeks without human occupation or heating had left our Richmond Road top flat the kind of temperature you expect of your garage or garden shed, not your bedroom. It was the raw kind of cold that seeps into your bones, and our single-bar electric 'fire' hadn't got the capacity (nor had we the money to feed the meter that much) to replace the missing warmth...