My cats Niño and Niña in these cold nights provide me with cuddly warmth as they sleep on either side of me. But my feet are cold. About a week ago I remembered that I had a hot water bottle. This has been a godsend. Because I am an old man my leg and foot circulation is not all that good.

The hot water bottle made me remember of those cold Buenos Aires winters when I was 8 years old in 1950. It was then that my father and a friend would sit in the kitchen with the oven door open. This was the only warm room in our house. He would offer his friend his Players Navy Cut cigarettes’. His friend would reject the offer and would send me the corner boliche to buy him a pack of Argentine Arizonas. I never did ask my father how it was that his friend was writer Julio Cortázar.

In our bedroom (I slept in the same room as my parents) they had “an estufa de kerosene”. Argentines insisted on keeping that last e. I can still remember the smell of the kerosene. To lessen that impact a dish of water with cedrón (lemon verbena) was placed on top. On really cold nights, our live in house helper, Mercedes would put bricks in the oven and then wrap them in towels. I don’t remember if we had bolsas de agua caliente (Spanish for hot water bottles).

And of course I really miss sleeping next to Rosemary. There was lots of warmth and (!) heat there.