Radiator Pants

It is true that the weather over the pond can be less than wonderful once Autumn hits, unless you are a frog or duck. Fortunately, we have grand bursts of glorious sunshine that tease and coax us to stay until the drear is over. And we have something even more amazing to help ease the doldrums of the waning daylight and the near constant murky damp. We have radiator pants.

Radiator pants are an unintended and yet smashingly brilliant by-product of central heating in England. We are some of the many, many folks here who do not own a tumble dryer. There is a steep price to pay for soft billowy sheets and fluffy towels, and I don't mean a financial price. Most people have no room for a tumble dryer and have to sacrifice an eating space or use a clever table cover and awkwardly placed chairs in a vain attempt to hide said tumble dryer. But I digress. Anyhoo, most of us still have to hang our clothing out on a line or fill every nook and cranny in the house to dry our clothes.

Radiator pants are the bomb-diggety.  That translates to "nice" in merry England. I have learned these Brits are less than effusive. When you have the privilege of wearing toasty warm clothing just pulled off a steamy radiator, you have found Nirvana. It is exquisite. Of course, I am using pants in the American sense, as in jeans or slacks. I suppose one could get just as comfy cosy from radiator underwear or briefs, but I would suggest using care to avoid any unintended scorching...I knew I was on to something when I heard the British comedian, Russell Howard,  speak of radiator pants in his routine one night. I think he was referring to his seven days a week super hero underpants, and not his blue jeans, however.

 I am equally thrilled with a freshly warmed towel after my shower; radiator becomes towel bar! Genius.  Radiator dried and subsequently warmed socks are the best. There is little  better than slipping on a pair of toasty, snuggly socks before traipsing around on icy wooden floors. Facecloths warmed from the radiator make for a delightful soothing pre-bed routine.

When we were children, we lived in a tiny house with a large heating grate at the bottom of the stairs. This basically provided heat for the entire house. It would get very hot, and we were of course, reminded daily to stay off of it to avoid injury. And daily, we being children, would ignore the warnings and stand on said grate. We did not go so far as to stand in bare feet, but in our fuzzy slippers. We would remain on the grate until the smell of burning fuzzy slipper material would indicate it was time to exit. Every single pair of slippers I owned from age four to eight had this blackened criss-crossed grid pattern on the bottom. I can still conjure the acrid yet somehow comforting smell of my burning bedroom slippers.

Radiator pants take me back to my childhood. They are a simple yet powerful reminder of times before modern conveniences invaded our spaces. Already it seems ludicrous that this Victorian era house I live in is wired for Internet and cable. I have indoor plumbing and an kitchen fitted out with a double convection oven and a six burner gas stove. I have a luxurious claw-foot tub, but I also have a rain shower head in my, well...shower.

I don't love hanging my wash all over the house. It is a mad scramble for decorum when someone comes over..nothing like having your unmentionables hanging on display when the Vicar comes by. But the warmth and comfort one experiences by putting on freshly warmed radiator pants makes it worth the inconvenience.