Creative writing submission from the Rest Less community – submit your entry here.
When I woke up this morning my nose told me, even in the darkness, that it was really cold. I don’t have the heating on upstairs and always, no matter how cold, have the bedroom window open an inch as I crave the fresh air. Laying there, snuggled under my quilt, I thought about my childhood and how from an early age I learned to live with the cold.
We grew up at the top of an old Victorian block of six flats in Chelsea Square, next to an old fire station on one side and, on the other, a very old Jewish cemetery, unused for over one hundred years. The fire station was a working station until 1965 when it moved to King’s Road. This meant that if people ever stayed the night, they were left traumatised by the fact that suddenly in the dead of night, the whole place erupted as bells went off, lights flashed, and engines rumbled – the shouts of men waking them up.
Not so us! We were so used to these nighttime disturbances that we simply slept through, only very vaguely registering the disturbance.
‘Trafalgar Chambers’ (where we lived) had no running hot water, no inside toilets, and no lift, but lots of dark stone and a wooden staircase without windows that climbed narrowly up to the very top of the building. It was horrendously cold and spooky and the only lights were those awful dim ones on a timer that always went out before you could reach the next one, even if you took the stairs at full pelt – which I always did.
The six flats consisted of three small rooms and were two to a landing with an outside toilet – one toilet between two flats – situated on the stairs below. I hated that toilet arrangement. Not because we had to share (which we didn’t as my parents rented both flats on the top floor), but because you had to leave the safety of your front door, go downstairs in the darkness, and lock yourself in, knowing that if someone came up those stairs, they were between you and home.
It literally gave me nightmares and, I confess, after my father plumbed in a bath in what had been the second flat’s kitchen when I was about six, I used to sneak into what was then our bathroom and pee down the plug, quickly turning on the tap to conceal my misdemeanour.
Inside our flat was a steep staircase with a bolted door at each end that went up to a flat roof where there was a fire escape and the fire station’s watch tower. This also gave me the heebie-jeebies as, possessing a vivid imagination, I always thought someone would climb over that roof and come down those stairs in the dark.
As I said, we had six tiny rooms between a family of six – two adults and four children – and there was no heating except in the sitting room, which was graced with a tiny open fireplace. As we were very poor growing up, it was only ever lit after 4pm (except on Christmas day when it was lit at midday).
Even now, I’m loath to put the fire on in the sitting room before 4pm as it somehow seems extravagant; but unlike my childhood, I have a lovely, toasty log burner in the centre of my home which I light and feed from 6am. It takes the chill off the whole house in cold weather and I haven’t put the central heating on since I’ve had it.
For many, many years my life revolved around bed socks, mittens, layer after layer of jumpers, and hot water bottles at bedtime, replaced in my case by the family dog when I was around eight. I’ve never baulked at sharing my bed with a pooch as I hold the view that my dogs are cleaner than a great many people I meet. They give both comfort and warmth in equal measure without going cold and having to be refilled.
I feel that it’s about planning for cold weather, wearing natural fibers, making nourishing homemade chicken soup, and getting as much exercise as you can (a bit limited in my present circumstances but hey ho).
Imagine my surprise when a few years ago I happened to look up the old flat and discovered that, having been sold by Brompton Hospital, the flats had been done up with hot water and inside toilets installed. Now billed as ‘luxury’ apartments in the heart of Chelsea, they were going for well over 1.5 million each, ours being at over two!
Of course, there were advantages to being slap bang in the middle of Chelsea and having a balcony and flat roof with views to die for, but I can never think about my growing up in that building without a shudder. It was miserable, cold, and very, very scary and I still get nightmares about it to this day.
Anyway, revelling in the comfort, safety, and warmth of my home today, I roll over to peer at the alarm clock. Deciding to brave the chill, I grab a shawl and make my way downstairs to let my dog Ila out and light the log burner, before coming back upstairs to shower, dress, and wake the baby boy (my other dog, Arthur).
It seems so strange how in some ways things have changed so dramatically in my lifetime but, in others, not at all and there’s still a dog at the heart of everything I do and everything I treasure. Still, enough reminiscing now as it’s time to face the day, feed Arthur, and enjoy a coffee as, after all, time doesn’t stand still!
Are you feeling creative? We are proud to have a hugely talented community on Rest Less, which is why we’re so excited to open up a section of the site dedicated to showcasing the wonderful and diverse writing of our members. If you have a piece of creative writing that you’d like to share with the Rest Less community – you can do so here.