Like many people, I adore the transitional seasons. Spring brings feelings of unadulterated joy as I relish the burst of life that emerges in the world. And I find autumn similarly inspiring: the crisp crunch of fallen leaves never fails to delight.
But there is one black cloud that has traditionally hovered over our household when the weather turns. It’s the knowledge that my wife and I will reprise our long-running battle over the central heating control: she ratcheting it up to max at the merest hint of a chilly evening, me wrestling the dial down in my quest to save money.
