The thermal mug
Catherine Austen reflects on the warmth-infusing properties of a well-filled Thermos as winter bites
“YOU have two legs and two hands — use them!” calls Jake as his 10am pupil’s horse totally ignores his rider’s muddled aids for travers.
It’s winter, so Jake’s yard of event horses are at home with their owners. Jake is fitting in as much teaching as he can in order to take his girlfriend — who does not consider a trip in Holland in October (that is, Boekelo) to be a holiday — to the Caribbean for Christmas. He quite likes teaching, but spending seven hours a day standing in an arena in December is damn cold.
His thermal mug, filled with “real” coffee until lunchtime and then decaf in the afternoon, is now an extension of his hand, and is topped up between each lesson.
And last weekend his girlfriend discovered a fulllength puffa-type coat in the middle “aisle of random stuff” in Aldi. Jake jibbed a bit when presented with it, saying he’d look like a yummy mummy doing the school run. Told briskly to get over himself, and that all the top coaches and trainers wore them, he acquiesced and is a total convert to its cosy charms.
His suggestion that he and the girlfriend wear them to watch telly in the evenings to save money on heating bills in their freezing cottage didn’t go down so well, however.