7 Reasons

Tag: Warmth

  • 7 Reasons To Wear Slippers

    7 Reasons To Wear Slippers

    When you get to about ten years of age you start realising that slippers are for girls and Grandads. It is certainly a view I held for the next seventeen years. However, since moving to Kent last June, my relationship with slippers has begun to change. In my previous abode in Fulham the house was very much slipper free. Living with an Australian all I saw were thongs. (That’s Australian for flip-flop, I wasn’t a pervert). In Kent, though, the ratio of flip-flops to slippers is 1:1. Now, I don’t know why, but the slippers in question – my girlfriend’s slippers – had a habit of calling me. Wherever I looked, there they were. Asking to be worn. It’s the same as biscuits in the jar or cushions on the sofa. They demand to be eaten or jumped on. Respectively, obviously. Not simultaneously. After six months of looking after the slippers in question, I was bought my own pair. I have now worn my own slippers for three months. And far from feeling like an old man, I feel young, hip and warm in the tootsie department. If you are not a slipper wearer, here is why you should be:

    7 Reasons To Wear Slippers

    1.  Grip. As someone who is both active and clumsy, wooden or tiled floors have often been my downfall. Quite literally. I just can’t help but try and slide from one end of the kitchen to the other. While this can be fun, it can also be highly dangerous for both myself and other kitchen based persons. Especially if they are carrying a pan of boiling water. Or an expensive antique plant pot. While slippers will never help superglue the pot back together at least the soles prevent further accidents and weeks without receiving pocket money. An extremely valuable source of income when you want to buy a Game Boy.

    2.  Socks. The slipping and the sliding may have something to do with it, but the vast majority of my socks have a hole problem. Or, to be more accurate, my holes have a sock problem. I don’t buy cheap and I don’t attack them with scissors, but matter not within weeks a hole is already beginning to form. Or at least they were. Now, with the introduction of slippers to my daily attire, my socks last much longer. Much longer. We’re talking months here, not just days. To give you a more accurate picture, in the three months of 2011 so far there has only been one New Sock Saturday. In years gone by it has been at least two. Slippers means I am wearing 50% less socks each year. And that’s without reverting to my 2006 One Sock A Day project.

    3.  Warmth. We try not to state the bloody obvious on 7 Reasons for bloody obvious reasons, but on this occasion I feel it is fair game. That’s because I have terrible blood circulation to my extremities. Well, most of them. My toes in particular don’t feel the benefit of any blood. As a result they are always freezing and half the time I forget I have any. Now the last thing you need, especially when you are filling out an important medical form or the census, is to forget you have toes. This can lead to much confusion in the doctors canteen and a £1000 fine. Wear slippers though, and you’ll never forget.

    4.  Emotion. So far this year two sporting events have caught the imagination of my slippers. The Cricket World Cup and the Six Nations. In both events England have thrilled and appalled in equal measure. It’s during these moments of ecstasy and pain that I find my slippers to be of much use. A wicket or a try to the good and my slippers become the loudest clappers in the land. A wicket or a try to the bad however and they make a pleasing thwack on the table. Or a not so pleasing one on my knee. Either way, worth having a pair to hand.

    5.  Efficiency. Slippers are comfortable. If they are not you probably have them on the wrong foot. So take them off the unsuspecting slipper wearer and slip into them yourself. In this comfortable and warm environment one can easily begin to feel slightly sleepy. When I put my slippers on I know I am going to be asleep within the hour. On a good day I have more than an hours work to get through which means I have to work like a Chinese production line to get it done. Then, just before I start snoozing, I whip the slippers off and spend the rest of the day writing stuff for 7 Reasons. Obviously I don’t expect you to write for 7 Reasons in your now empty day, but you could do something equally worthwhile. Like see how many Jaffa Cakes you can eat in one minute. The world record is a paltry seven. I’ve managed five. This was in the days before I wore slippers though.

    6.  Intelligence. I don’t know about you, but I believe in this psychological nonsense. If I am not wearing the right cap I never score runs. If I don’t drink tea with my breakfast I feel thirsty. If I get the letters Z, Q and J when playing Scrabble I never win. Well, in the same light, if I don’t wear my slippers I don’t feel very intelligent. I feel somewhat immature and insecure and other words that begin with ‘i’ that I’d only be able to think of if I was wearing my slippers right now. Which only goes to prove my point.

    7.  Superiority. I was originally going to publish this post at the start of March, but I wanted to conduct an experiment based on the above. Was I really a better performer with slippers on? Well, the jury is very much still out on this one. What I can tell you, however, is that if I answered the door whilst wearing slippers people were much politer to me and much more in awe of my standing than they were the one time I didn’t. That was the time Gary the builder wondered if I wanted my guttering looked at. When I told him that I was quite capable of looking at it myself he got in a huff. I don’t blame him. That’s slippers for you. Or the lack of anyway.

  • 7 Reasons That The New Duvet Is Awful

    7 Reasons That The New Duvet Is Awful

    At 7 Reasons (.org) we like to think of ourselves as lifestyle writers; authors of a self-help guide to modern living.  But occasionally, something so calamitous occurs in one of our personal lives that we can think of nothing other than that event and are compelled to write about it, even though we’d rather be thinking and writing about something (anything) else.  Such an event has occurred.  In the past week, my wife purchased a new duvet.  It is one of the worst things that could have happened.  Here are 7 reasons why.

    A white duvet curled up like a snail

    1.  Light.  It’s dark under the new duvet.  Whether it’s actually dark or not.  It’s so dark that the exterior of the duvet could be next to the sun, or next to something as dark as the sun is light (the unsun?  The un? ).  It wouldn’t matter.  Because underneath the duvet, it is always pitch black: Unless I was to take a torch under there.  Though possibly even then.  There is nothing darker than being under the duvet, except for being inside Piers Morgan’s soul wearing a black hat, a bin liner and a pair of sunglasses. Though how you would find yourself in such a situation, I don’t know.  It would be quite unfortunate.

    2.  Weight.  The duvet is heavy.  It’s heavier than…well…everything; and it’s definitely the heaviest thing I’ve ever been pinned to a bed by.  It’s like an enormous weight is pressing down on me all the time I’m beneath it (which may be slimming, who knows?).  When I tried to complain, what I said came out as gibberish because of the heavy weight pressing down on my face.  But that didn’t matter, because…

    3.  Under The Duvet, No One Can Hear You Scream.  There is no sound under the duvet.  This is bad, as I like to listen to the radio while in bed – it prevents me from thinking, which is what usually gets me into trouble, so it’s quite essential – but the moment I put my head under the duvet, all sound stops.  All of it.  Which would be handy if I were in a room with James Blunt, but I’m not, I’m trapped in a room with my own thoughts.  Which is much like being back in Piers Morgan’s soul again but I can wear what I like and there’s tiramisu.

    4.  Heat.  It’s hot under the duvet.  Hotter than anything.  I have no idea exactly how many togs the thing contains, but I know this: Togs are hot, and the new duvet has bloody loads of them.  I have actually broken into a sweat just by lying under the thing, not moving, in a cold, draughty house in the winter, when the temperature outside was -13.  It was then that I decided the remedy to my overheating would be to lift the duvet to let some air underneath.

    5.  AAaaaaarrrrrrgggghhhh!!!!! And that turned out to be a sensation like being punched in the solar-plexus by an angry ‘roid-enhanced snowman.  Twice.  It turns out that there was at least a thirty degree difference between the temperature in the room and the micro-climate beneath the duvet.  Still, at least my screams didn’t wake my wife, as my head was beneath the duvet and her head was above it, so she couldn’t hear them.

    6.  Time.  Under the duvet, you have no inkling of what time it is.  None, whatsoever.  There’s just no way of telling.  I can’t hear the radio, and there’s no way of telling that it’s time to get up (alarms, bin-men, toasters, a hungry cat etc), nor is there any daylight  or any climactic indicators (it’s just always the temperature of boiling stuff).  I could take a timepiece with me, but who wants to roll over on a clock in the bed, or get the bracelet of their watch caught in their hair and have to cut it loose?  I don’t want to make that mistake again, thank you very much.  Because doing that for a third time would make me look foolish.

    7.  Air.  It is impossible to breathe under the duvet, which is a shame, as it’s something of a hobby of mine.  No air penetrates the dense, heavy material that the duvet is constructed from (some sort of downy molten concrete?) and all air that was originally there is forced out by the sheer weight of the thing pressing down on the bed.  I’m not sure if this lack of air counts as a vacuum, but the new duvet certainly sucks.*

    *7 Reasons (.org) will return tomorrow but may not be back the following day as I may die a hideous death under the duvet of doom.