I hate to say it, but we were right all along and you were wrong. By "we", I mean those of us who, for decades, have been arguing that it's far too warm in this office/living-room/bed/car/train compartment (delete as appropriate). And by "you", I mean those people who, if the nearest thermostat is set at under 85 degrees Fahrenheit, start behaving like Nanook of the North, writes Frank McNally
Yes, you may once have been able to claim that the concept of ideal temperature was entirely subjective; that your opinion was as valid as ours; and that apart from Baby Bear and Goldilocks, no two individuals can ever agree on a level that is "just right".
But of course that was before we all woke up to the crisis of climate change, and the contribution to that problem of fossil-fuel-based heating systems. Now I think even you have to agree that it really is too warm in here. As for us, it was the planet we were thinking of all along.
So it was not entirely true when I said earlier that I hated being right. In fact, before starting this column, I had to buy a large smugness offset - from a specialist company run by a Catholic-Jewish couple who drive a five-litre SUV and never phone their mothers. How the scheme works is that they will feel intensely guilty for the next couple of hours, so I don't have to.
Now, freed from that burden, magnanimous in victory, and wishing to foster a spirit of dialogue between us naturally warm people and you cold ones, allow me to pass on some tips about how to deal with the lower thermostat settings ahead. There is one in particular I think you'll find useful.
For many years past, I have used an ingenious personal-temperature-control device known as the "jumper". The device is typically made from wool and installation could not be easier. You just pull it on over your head and it starts working instantaneously, warming the layer of air nearest you, while leaving the general atmosphere - the one in which your spouse, co-worker, or fellow passenger has to function too - unaltered.
The apparatus can be adjusted to local temperature fluctuations by rolling its sleeves up or down, as required. Some of the more sophisticated models have an added layer of fine-tuning, called a "zip".
Much of the time, admittedly, you have to rely on a more basic control mechanism - ie, taking the jumper off, when necessary, and later putting it back on. On a typical Irish day, you will have to do this a lot and you will never achieve your ideal temperature. But it averages out. And especially if you work in front of a computer a lot, continually putting on and taking off a jumper can be a useful form of exercise.
Then again, you may be the kind of person who, even with the help of a jumper, long-johns, thermal socks, and a hot-water bottle, will still have to hug yourself for warmth in the sort of air temperatures normal people prefer. So maybe you should consider a lagging jacket. This will restrict your movement somewhat but, after all, you made the rest of us suffer long enough.
Bad as thermostat wars are in the workplace, where there may at least be a range of views on the desirable temperature, they can be even more intense in the domestic sphere, where there are usually only two opinions.
Any meteorologist can tell you that when a warm front meets a cold front, stormy weather is likely. But not even a double-digit disparity in metabolic temperatures is considered a bar to marriage. The issue is never touched on in pre-nuptial courses. And even at the decisive moment of a marriage ceremony, when contracting parties are required to agree the standard disclaimer ("for rich or for poor, in sickness or in health, etc"), thermostats are not mentioned.
Thus, couples often trip merrily into lives of atmospheric incompatibility, oblivious to the years of conflict that await them. Then the honeymoon ends. And before long, they find themselves adopting cynical tactics to survive.
Cold people can be particularly cunning, in my experience. I have one female acquaintance - a Nanook type - who has devised an ingenious stratagem whenever she wants the heating on and her husband thinks the house is already stifling. On such occasions, she will protest that she's using the heaters to "dry the kids' uniforms" for tomorrow. That this may be the truth doesn't make it any less annoying. But as a variation on the old "hit me with this child in my arms" line, it is unanswerable.
Of course, my female acquaintance (who asked not to be identified, or else she would - as she put it - "divorce" me) could point to such contrary examples as long-distance car journeys when she has had to ask for the heater to be turned up.
Her husband will usually agree on these occasions, but then instantly start yawning and saying things like: "Children, would you make some more noise in the back there, so Daddy doesn't fall asleep at the wheel and get us all killed." Whereupon his wife will concede defeat, turn the heating off altogether and suggest the journey be completed with all the windows rolled down.
fmcnally@irish-times.ie