We live in a typically long and narrow Victorian semi and our bedroom is, without any shadow of a doubt, by far the coldest room in the house. Therefore, it goes without saying that an electric over-blanket is one of the necessities of our existence.
Nothing beats the bliss of climbing into bed on a cold winter's night to remove the last items of clothing to be discarded (it being an impossibility to remove all one's outer garments before being in the shelter of the bedding) and then snuggling down to feel the warmth of the blanket.
Each night finds me uttering such words as "this is heaven" or "this is my favourite moment of the entire day!"
Much as I love being in bed, I often muse on the fact that it's only in the winter that I appreciate this warmth. In the summer, when even I don't think about turning the blanket on, it's far more likely that I just take bedtime for granted.
In other words, we need to experience 'cold' to truly appreciate 'warmth'. Sometimes, it is only the absence of something which makes us aware of its presence.
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