Yes, goose pimples spread on English flesh with the natural ease of winter leaves falling on a rugby field. We talk of the weather, yet we have never been able to cope with its moods. Do your buttocks still warm to the memory of the grand radiators, which were as much part of our beloved England as the steady rhythm of drips in the bus shelter? See and hear them again, those stout concertinas of iron – grumbling and rumbling, puffing and gasping out their heat in the old schools, hospitals, parish halls, barracks, pavilions, offices and factories. Invariably, they were stationed beneath an iced widow, which rattled in its slots, releasing wicked gusts of chilled air.Read
