Nobal Glomad

I’ll never be walking winter hand-in-hand down the knot-tie’d aisle. Our relationship is strictly seasonal and based on mutual understanding. We maintain our reluctant association just long enough until finally we both break and say our mutual ‘bugger-offs’, awaiting the next toe-numbing groundhog chill-filled on-set.

My other half is Swiss. We’ve only ever hiked his home-turf Bernese Alps in the warmer months. Think escarpments layered in daisy-filled ascents, over-pudge’d Swiss-bell’d cattle, rolling valleys of super-green, and mountaintop chalets dishing up plates of blue cheese ‘tato rosti. The thought of living in double figured depths of snow, my day-to-day existence confined to a triple-glazed glass igloo, staring out the window dreaming of t-shirts and just above the knee shorts is my idea of self-imposed purgatory.

I think you get it. I utterly loathe winter.

Consider the state of Sydney’s architectural epicentre, dense with Victorian and Edwardian terrace-style dwellings. Most of these light-lacking single and multi-story abodes were built in the latter half of the 19^th Century sparked by the Gold bonanza of the 1850s. They were designed predominantly for housing the working ‘bacon-butty’ class. Construction was more functional and repetitious than tailored and fussed. There was a certain appeal to this visual consistency we still find in European cobbled streets today. The common problem of rising damp and general lack of attention to a building’s insulating abilities though were last on most draftsman’s agendas of the time. Perhaps these cityscape pioneering purists are today’s overly inbred descendants of our modern day skyline destroying Meriton group… if only they’d shared the love.

Today coal fires no longer fill our city skies with home winter exhaust. Minus the black smoky purge, a pre-renovated student occupied crumbling terrace scores a big fat -100 on the winter happy place to be scale. Think old towels jammed under gap central doors, single bar blower heaters popping antique circuit breakers, uggies and blankies in the tv room, an oil heater in the bedroom and a electric blanket + water bottle to melt the ice under the doona where you hide, dreading the morning streak to the still-to-be-replaced bathroom outhouse. No thanks.

Jump forward a few hundred years to the aforementioned Meriton-ization of Sydney’s modern cluster living. Want to know a scary statistic? In Sydney, approximately 3 in every 100 people inhabit a Meriton-built apartment (pause to gag). There are benefits: Proportions are improved, living areas has been open-planned and de-formalised, toilets eco half-flush, floors insulate and you drive the wheels securely underground, park in your yellow stripped concrete square, press a button and hey presto, you’re zipped to your nestled front door.

But it’s winter.

I’ve arrived home to my just-painted, perfectly bland modern cell of existence. Is there any central heating or perhaps reverse cycle air conditioning? No. Is there double-glazing covering all this wall-replacing glass? No. Plenty of light, space and a decent sized balcony overlooking the freeway? Yes. But I’m freezing my butt off. There’s still, in 2011 when you’d think we might have faced up to our seasonal variance, a complete denial of Sydney’s winter, and the mass producing architects and planners don’t feel the need to do anything about it.

Quoting Harry Triguboff aka Mr Meriton about his swallification of Sydney… “I just enjoy looking at them,” he said about his churn and burn construction. “I’ve changed Sydney. It’s my city, my people. I’m theirs. We belong to each other.” Send shivers up your spine?

So as we spend less time plunging Bondi and Haviana-ing the promenade, how the hell do we keep blood pumping to the extremities through our shorter day’d months? I’ve pulled from my cerebral beanie a few assists for maintaining your hibernated self-love to nurture your wintery sparkle. Consider this my pledge to turn your approaching season from a couch-bound transit lounge into a wood-fired home-loving experience.

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How not to freeze

1. Mind the gaps

The obvious one. Walk around the pad and inspect all your gaping windows and doors for breezy gaps. To plug the main artery, have your mum/nana crèche a front door snake stuffed full of Bondi sand. Check out this how-to clip featuring a creepy American freak showing how to make your very own. Spotlight here we come.

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2. Fashion faux pas home-wear

No.1 too much trouble? Time to wrap yourself stupid in some seriously disgusting fashion. There’s the Single Snuggie, The Snuggie blanket for two. And when that’s all done, get one for your dog and indoor equestrian friend. There’s also the Uggs… the fashion that somehow made it to the streets of Paddington with inch-long denim skirts a few winters ago.

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3. It’s a gas

Stuff the electric toaster/blower/oil chugging $19.95 special. Tap into your neighbour’s pipeline or install a Bunnings home-kit T-junction next to the stove. Spend the extra hard saved cash on a Rinnai luxe unit. It will fast become material love… ‘The Precious’.

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4. Comfort Food O’clock

It’s time to say no to Thai salads, lightly steamed snapper, freshly squeezed juices and home-churned sorbet. Load up the freezer with frozen fries, party pies, fish fingers and crumbed chicken Kiev. Get the casserole out to make mum’s world famous tuna bake… the one with a can of Campbells Cream of Mushroom Soup. Welcome to the season of stodge.

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5. Ultimate Hot Choc

She’s back at the Stove after a brief stint in Cell Block 8. Download a double feature of 16 Candles and The Breakfast Club and immerse yourself in a supersized mug of Martha Stewarts Ultimate Hot Chocolate.

Ingredients
4 cups milk
1 cinnamon stick, 6 sprigs fresh mint, or 2 split vanilla bean
10 ounces semisweet or milk chocolate, cut into small pieces
Whipped cream, for serving
Chocolate shavings

Directions
Heat milk to scalding in a medium saucepan. Add cinnamon, mint, or vanilla. Let steep 10 minutes. Remove saucepan from heat; strain, and return to saucepan. Reheat milk; using a whisk, stir in chocolate until melted and milk is frothy. Serve immediately with a dollop of whipped cream garnished with chocolate shavings.

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6. Google a hot lover

Stop worrying about your share portfolio’s lack-luster performance, mortgage re-negotiation and change of hairdresser because honestly… you’re just not happy with the colour anymore. Refocus this energy towards upgrading your current run-of-the-mill boudoir activity. Visit a seriously smutty website and discover the 1,000s of other foaming-at-the-mouth sex junkies waiting for your knock on the door.

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All too hard? Book yourself a weekend to Melbourne where they’ve well and truly mastered the art of European indoorification. It’s perfect to be over-rugged up in the more southern states.

Enjoy. Live. Love.