The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
The hot water bottle is back by popular demand
When an ice-induced slip leaves our hero with backache, he copes with the pain the only way he knows how: with a hot water bottle, electric blanket and painkillers. This is Sparta, after all
They say that out of something bad comes something good. It’s yin o’ thae yin and yang things, ken? Well, when I came a cropper on the ice recently, it wasn’t very good. A crowd of two gathered and insisted on calling an ambulance, which I pooh-poohed, before manfully hirpling hame.
The pain in my back was excruciating but the physio was a big help, including the suggestion that I strap a hot water bottle to my back. A hot water bottle! Oh joy!
I got rid of my old hot water bottle and electric blanket a few years ago, after learning that your bedroom and bedding are supposed to be a bit cold if you want a good night’s sleep. It’s something to do with needing to activate your own body heat before you can drop off.
That’s why having a bath beforehand is a seriously good idea if you’re having sleep problems. Throughout the back pain, I took soothing baths before bedtime and slept like a log each time. Until, that is, I started telling others it was a failsafe for a good night’s sleep… and then, safe to say, it failed.
It’s my experience, during my mission here on your planet, that whenever you find something good, the ethereal forces that rule the place find out about it and stop it from working. I guess the setback is meant to be characterbuilding, though, in my case, it just leads to prolonged periods of gentle weeping. I didn’t feel very strong and masculine, either, when I sidled into the pharmacy and whispered in the assistant’s ear: “Do you have a cuddly hot water bottle for the elegant man about town?”
However, the embarrassment was worth it when I was able to bung the hot water bottle into the bed to warm it up before I leapt in. Oh, the comfort when all around was snow and shivers.
Strapping it to my back wasn’t quite so successful – actually made my back worse when I lay on it – so the beastie usually managed to find its way to my tummy or feet.
It didn’t work outside, either, though some nosy passers-by said I shouldn’t have strapped it to the outside of my jacket and claimed that I looked silly. The cheek!
As for my back, it started to heal very slowly – until I went back to yoga. It wasn’t my usual class, and was maybe a bit arduous at times. At any rate, next day, my back was killing me – but not in the same place.
I think what had happened was that my painkillers were making me think I was all right, but my spine was still weak and, unable to feel the discomfort, I bent and twisted enthusiastically and pulled something else out in my back.
Only one thing for it: two hot water bottles! Whispering to different pharmacy assistant: “It’s not for me. It’s for a little old lady with lumbago, poor soul. Can I have that one with Star Wars on it?”
At this rate, I can see me investing in an electric blanket again. That’s the true mark of pampered luxury.
In my defence, I point to the threesecond cold shower I take every day. That’s me: the three-second Spartan.