What do you say to forty-four degrees of scorching heat and having to escape from one of California's wildfires, compared to staying in a small timber-built cottage on a tiny, at times ice-bound, island in the Stockholm archipelago – which is where I am now? The pandemic has certainly brought contrasts into my life.
The present problem does not involve checking air quality and the progress made by fire fighters, but keeping a careful eye on the thermometer to know when the taps are likely to dry-, or rather freeze-, up and there is no running water. That has already happened a number of times. A lesson I learned the first time was to fill up everything available as soon as the weather gods relented for a day or two and the taps started to drip, drip and eventually run again. For a while.
There are no municipal supplies on the island so everyone has to make their own arrangements, which inevitably means having a well drilled deep into the post-glacial stone-strewn ground. Mine goes down about forty-five metres, which is far below the frost-free level, but the water has to come up to the surface. I have installed a small heater in the space below the cottage where it comes in, but the weak link is between that and the well outside. Of course, I should have made sure it was sufficiently well insulated long ago, but as I never envisaged staying here in the depths of winter, I never bothered.
But going without running water is by no means the only hazard to be aware of. There can be storm winds at this time of the year, and with them the likelihood of a power failure, like the one that occurred a couple of weeks ago, leaving the indoor warmth to fall alarmingly in the direction of the sub-zero temperatures outside. Fortunately, I was rescued by my kind neighbours, who invited me to sit in front of the efficient wood-fired appliance that spreads its warm glow around their place.
Then stepping outside also has its dangers as there are patches of smooth ice to look out for, sometimes artfully concealed by a thin layer of snow – like the one I fell over on with a nasty bump more than a week ago. It still hurts!
