My kitchen radiator, that is. After all, it is next to one of the kitchen table chairs. My flat was built in the late 1930s, and so was initially fitted with an avantgarde hot-air heating system, which was at the time, no doubt a very new-fangled way to generate warmth in the home. If you look around the skirting boards of the two bedrooms, you can still see paddle-shaped wooden ‘caps’, which I should imagine cover up the old intakes where the hot air used to be channelled in.
I sometimes wonder if the old system was somewhat more efficient than the one I have now. With the British weather seemingly not able to make its mind up what it’s doing, I can turn the heating off when it’s mild, then get hit by a cold snap, turn it back on again, and, guess what? Nothing seems to happen for a minimum of two days, and the flat is plunged into what feel like Arctic (or at the very least Siberian) temperatures.
The warmth is currently generated by a fancy-sounding wireless system, which, sounds grander than it is. A thermostat in the hallway sends a signal to the control unit in the pantry, which in turn regulates the supply of hot water to the somewhat newer radiators. Once these get to the predetermined wireless thermostat temperature, the pantry control unit stops the flow of hot water to the radiators, and all is well.
Well, that’s the theory. When it works well, it is very clever and the flat is toasty warm. But, when it gets caught out, the layering of clothes is one key to keeping warm. I seem to recall stating that I would replace it last summer, when the weather was warmer, but obviously never got around it.
Anyhow, the kitchen radiator. It’s the first in the chain and the nearest to the pantry control unit, so, when the heating’s on, it does get very hot. And, it ticks. Tick, tick, tick. Similar to when a car engine is first turned off, and all of the hot oil is dripping back into the sump. Tick, tick, tick. It literally drives you mad. Especially late at night, when you’re in bed, can’t get off to sleep, and the normally busy main road outside is still and quiet.
Thankfully, most nights the heating is on timed, so, just after bedtime, it turns itself off anyway. Maybe it needs bleeding (again), as it has trapped air in it. But, the danger with that is, unless you put a bowl or cloths down, your tiled kitchen floor starts to resemble Hanningfield reservoir. As I really don’t want to be mopping up lots of smelly and mucky water, I think I’ll put up with it ticking for now.
It’ll soon be spring. And, much warmer.