How to win the heating wars at home when the weather’s not on your side

Central heating is the final front in the family battleground – but should dads and husbands use the balmy weather to make a last stand? Will Gore discusses the right time to shift the dial

Nudging the temperature dial is a battle of attrition at home (PA)

Have you been keeping an eye on the forecast? October was mostly mild, and the weather has continued in that vein in the first third of November. Perhaps you tricked-or-treated in shorts, or watched fireworks in a singlet, so balmy has it felt at times.

There may, however, be a modest change on the way, with daytime temperatures struggling to get into double figures over the next couple of weeks for much of the UK. The big question is: will it be cold enough to justify putting the central heating on?

The thermostat is one of life’s primary domestic battlegrounds; and the split between those who reach for a jumper, rather than turning on a radiator, can be almost Shakespearean in its bitterness. “To thine own self be true,” may be a decent motto, but telling a chilly person to follow your lead by putting on a second sweater doesn’t always go down well.

In recent years, the cost of living crisis has made the subject even more sensitive. Once upon a time, it was primarily a matter of principle: putting on the heating before November was a sort of decadence that hinted at loose morals. Now, with the price of energy having gone through the poorly-insulated roof, sticking on radiators in every room will leave a serious dent in your bank balance. All the more reason to put on the thermals and pour yourself another hot drink.

When I first moved to my current home, it was single-glazed throughout and the tiny kitchen had no source of heating in it at all. Our second winter in the house (2009/10) was the country’s coldest for 30 years, and during breakfast we would scrape ice from the inside of the kitchen window to see what kind of day it was – as if the frosty pane wasn’t a big enough clue.

I probably didn’t mind having the heating on when it was minus five degrees. Still, I was hawkish about the thermostat back then: radiators in October were frankly indecent, and could only be justified in November if the weather took an unseasonably wintry turn. My wife, hardly profligate, took a modestly different view, and we would both find the thermostat had been nudged a degree or two up, or down, depending on who was in the house – and who was keener to win the battle of wills.

When people came to stay, their occasional shivers hinted at a lack of virtue, but a host’s good manners dictated middle-of-the-day heating and a blazing fire to boot – even if our guests’ now non-chattering teeth left mine slightly gritted. We drew the line at having radiators on at night, however. I’m afraid if you keep the boiler running from dusk to dawn, there is simply no hope for you.

Last year, after a decade and a half of endlessly mopping up condensation from the windows, we finally upgraded to double-glazing. Heating for the kitchen had been added in the interim, and we had the cavity walls insulated long ago. The fire in the living room may still draw in more cold air than it produces warm, but we’ve done about as much as we can to maintain a sensible temperature without having to reach for the central heating.

With all this in mind, you’d think I was as militant as ever about enforcing extra layers of clothing and triple blankets at bedtime. But if the truth be told, I’ve mellowed. When I see the thermostat has been turned up to 19 degrees, I (mostly) resist the temptation to twiddle it back to 16. On a slightly chilly autumn morning, I don’t even raise an eyebrow when my wife clicks the “extra hour” button on the boiler. I no longer regard radiators in October as an outrage – well, as long as it’s only for a couple of hours in the morning and a few in the evening.

Not that it’s all plain sailing for my now-toastier family. My attention has turned to other matters, after our most recent water bill was accompanied by a note that suggested we might have a leak, such was the apparent increase in our use.

For several days I read the meter religiously, determining ultimately that the pipes were not seeping quietly into the ground. Only then did I discover that one of my children had taken to having 30-minute power showers of an evening. She’s now on a five-minute limit.

After all, given my new-found permissibility with the heating, it’s hardly as if she needs it to keep warm. And if she does, then she’ll have to double up on the jumpers.