In defence of hot baths

I admire stout oldies who, even in good times, refuse to put the heating on unless it’s absolutely necessary. They can’t under-stand why we younger, healthier people are fussing over our energy consumption right now. Do we not know there’s a war on?

Even the boomers appear to be making a token effort: stoking their wood-burners with sustainably sourced, locally grown logs; installing plush electric blankets in the spare bedrooms; stocking up on cashmere jumpers in tasteful shades of oatmeal. Let it not be said they aren’t pulling their weight.

I’m trying too, but as a pampered millennial, reared on a diet of cheap energy, frugality is hard. In particular, I’m failing to kick my bath habit. Most days I have one, although on some it’s two. I prefer a shallow bath in the morning, to gather my thoughts, and a deeper one in the evening, to drown them out. Occasionally I bundle my two-year-old daughter into the tub with me, but that is an altogether less tranquil, more aquatic experience.