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Denis has gone doolally for the energy saving. He’s going around the place driving me mad. Looking over my shoulder.
“What are you at with the boiler Ann? Are you switching on the heat? Tis like Lanzarote outside. We don’t need any heat on. And oil gone through the roof. You’re only giving money to Putin.”
This is the kind of thing I’m hearing now. Every step I take around the house I’m influencing some global problem.
“I’m giving money to Seanie Mac for the oil. It’s no good to Putin, I crossed the cheque.”
“It all makes its way up to Putin Ann. If we’re to get through this winter, I was listening to a fella on the radio about it, he says we all have to change our mindsets.”
“Get through the winter? You’re not Scott of the Antarctic Denis. We’ll get through it alright. And how am I to get the clothes dry?”
“We’ll put them out on the line.”
“Talking to me about washing lines, Denis I know that. But it’s pure showery. Who’s going to bring them in and out? Who’s going to mind them?”
We’ll get our news from the radio. It’s cheaper
“I’ll give you a hand,” he says. And he does. Denis has handled more clothes pegs in the last two weeks than in the previous two decades. I don’t want to be saying I’m doing all the work around the house, but it usually turns out that way because I’m better at it and he’s covered in cement dust half the time from being out on the lorry. Freya my niece is always giving out to me about doing emotional labour, but you don’t consider- I says to her- the emotional labour of training Denis.
Climate warrior
Well, whatever price home heating oil and electric have gone to now, Denis is Mrs Fecking Hinch supervising all the minute details of running a house. It’ll pass. He’ll move onto some other bee in his bonnet, but at the moment he’s “intense”. He’s out now watching the meter going around. It’s cheaper than the telly he says. Ringing up the ESB with the reading. “How much’ll that be now a day?” he’s saying to them on the phone. He hangs up all pale. “The next bill will be chronic Ann.”
“We’ll get our news from the radio. It’s cheaper.” If I went away for the night I wouldn’t be surprised if he had emptied the freezer.
“WHAT ARE WE LIGHTING THE WHOLE STREET FOR? TISN’T BLACKPOOL ILLUMINATIONS!”
Freya my niece was around and she must have left a light on.
“I thought you were for the planet Freya?” She rolls her eyes. “I’m super-conflicted Auntie Ann. So Uncle Denis keeps switching the heat off, which is like ‘Yay Uncle Denis, climate warrior’ but then he’s not acknowledging that women need warmer rooms, so that’s like ‘boo the patriarchy.’”
“What are you whispering about,” says Denis.
“I was just saying Uncle Denis, I’m super-excited that we’ve found your price point for climate activism. You’ll be like Greta. You know Greta sailed to a climate conference Uncle Denis, to avoid burning diesel?”
“Did she now?” Denis has never seen eye to eye with Greta before. Freya goes over to the shelf. “Is this the award you won that time Uncle Denis?” She’s egging him on now. Denis is FIERCE proud of the Economic Lorry Driving Award he won. Get him going on fuel economy and he’ll be throwing scrambled eggs at a Vincent Van Gogh next.
“Do you want tea?”
“Are you making it Denis? That’s very kind of you. Actually I will have a cup. Freya?”
“Maybe. I dunno.”
“Yes or no Freya. There’ll be no maybe. I’m not boiling water for you to watch it go cold.”
It’s going to be a long winter.
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