Winter’s coming! Well, I think we can all agree that summer is over anyway and with that seasonal shift comes a drop in temperature. As you can imagine, heating Spindle Towers to a suitable Spindle climate is of the utmost importance. It was after a leisurely dinner one evening, as we were gathered around the table, that the subject was broached. Replete and gently burping out lamb chop fumes I declared to Hector and Muvver that I had felt a slight nip in the air, and could we turn the heating on – up to a Spinal Tap 11 if possible. A pitying look was exchanged between the pair of them and they sat back and began to martial their arguments in favour of parsimony.

The problem is you see dear pals, that I am covered up with my special blanket at night – as all good hounds should be, but be it through nocturnal sleep scampers…or general wriggling about, I often become uncovered. It has become a recent habit that I will begin to wail the mournful lament of my fellow hounds at 3am, as now uncovered, I feel a sinister chill biting at my botty. My botty likes to be toasty and the loons like my botty being covered up as it apparently traps odours quite efficiently. 

Anyway, after a few nights of this sleepus interruptus, a complaint was made by Hector…who I may add is TOTALLY rocking the Gandalf look at the moment. Well pals, I tried my best to surreptitiously re-cover myself but it is difficult when trying to operate one’s sleepy paws and I ended up elbowing Hector in his sensitive particles. His high pitched squeal woke Muvver up and then we were all awake, disgruntled, and in my case…still cold. 

Fast forward to our post dinner chat when the subject of household heating was broached. In all fairness to them, I was allowed to hold the talking spoon first and put forward my argument – which was of course for the heating to be fired up 24 hours a day. I reiterated the importance of a hound’s comfort, and the natural leaning towards being able to successfully roach on a sofa (the upside-down prawn/wilfully discarded bagpipe pose) without risking exposure/hypothermia to one’s undercarriage.

I put down the spoon, fairly pleased with myself. I was concise, moving and displayed a thorough knowledge of what makes me happy. 

Silence. 

The spoon was then taken up by Hector, who had specially produced one of his beloved Excel spreadsheets to show me how much that would cost. It had an accompanying spreadsheet that showed the detrimental effect that spending on heating would have on the purchasing of treats, my favourite food and my ever constant need for custard creams and Dubonnet. 

Silence.

Throughout this comprehensive explanation I kept hearing a strange whirring noise, but I ignored it as I was beguiled by all the columns and cells that Hector was waving at me. In the following shocked silence, the noise made itself more insistent and it was then that I realised that Muvver had been thinking and…I’m sorry to say…had an idea. We have all been here before and Hector and I exchanged trepidatious glances and braced ourselves for whatever disreputable concept was going to be voiced. 

“You need a pair of Pyjamas, Elsie Spindlechops”.

There you have it pals. A simple solution if you think about it. Muvver is a huge fan of the old fashioned combinations (with bum flap for ease of rapid/unexpected evacuations) and Hector had been known to strut about on a snowy day in a pair of winceyette long johns. I must say that I approved of the idea. 

That evening I had a virtual video link sleepover with my beloved Eggy Elton, a pleasant evening during which we would chomp our way through snacks and drinkies, chat about the issues of the day and then settle down to watch a film, this time it was Scooby Doo…(It’s his favourite Halloween film). 

I also want to reassure you dear reader, that our relationship, however full of burgeoning romance it is also a very shy and innocent one. He is indeed the holder of my heart and flutterer of my petticoats, but above all he is a gentlehound.

Whilst we were synchro snaffling canapés, I told him of the latest news, which was primarily ‘heatgate’. 

He too had been complaining of a similar problem, and yes, his mums were also fed up with bundling up his botski in the middle of the night as he made his displeasure known. 

We spent some time looking at different designs on the internet device and eventually both agreed on a pair of matching pyjamas! Be still my Spindly heart! We will both look ADORABLE in them. I must admit to you dear pals that I feel an extra closeness to Elton, which laughs in the face of our geographical distance, knowing that we are both encased in matching slumber suits.

So that my dear pals, is that! Now we have solved the issue of the ‘the bums that get cold in the night’, I can re channel my attention to find out the details of a raucous visit Muvver and Grandad Tom made to Edinburgh last week. The only discernible words I have managed to get out of her is ‘margaritas, singing, dancing, priest’. Bruises were incurred. Grandad Tom is also remaining tight lipped about their infamous nights out but to be fair he is generally more of a handful than she is.

Until next time pals, pip pip.