When I was a boy
my brother and I had the top floor of our house to ourselves. The old servants' quarters. Whilst this was WAY COOL in many ways, not least the 'not getting caught smoking' scene we had going, but in winter it was FREEZING. I would wake up in the morning and my breath would steam in the air. I had one, tiny radiator, right under my (rather ill-fitting) window. Never understood why it was so, so fucking cold until my pissed-up brother put his foot through the wall. It was wattle and daub, no word of a lie. Medieval hut style. Tru story blud, se'sly.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Mon 24 Sep 2012, 11:11, Reply)