PLUMMETING temperatures means that the annual game of ‘is it too hot, is it too cold?’ begins in our house.

Now I’ll admit to enjoying a hermetically-sealed home in winter, while husband is firmly in the fresh air camp, which has as its mantra ‘if you’re cold, why don’t you put a jumper on?"

Jumpers do have their place in my life but that is naturally out on a windswept moor and not in the comfort of my own living room.

This makes co-habiting for three months of the year a tricky tightrope. We trail each other around the house either turning radiators on or off. As he flings open windows, I put another log on the woodburner.

Economic doom and gloom and environmental concerns have all conspired to give husband more ammunition in his annual fight to keep the temperature down.

Our two new arrivals, hamsters Hammy and Whiskers, have turned the heat up on our disagreements.

The playground has been buzzing with the tale of a hamster getting caught in a draft and slipping into a hibernation deep enough to almost convince the owners to commence burial arrangements.

A full day at the vets under a heat lamp saved the day but I am taking no chances with our furry critters.

On discovering that I am heating a room purely for the hamsters, husband is predictably baffled.

He disappears to do some research and emerges with that Alan Sugar glint in his eye.

"I think I’ve found a way to solve our hamster problem, keep our heating bills low and make a million in the process,’ he says triumphantly.

"Hamster jumpers. No one is doing them. They’re a sure fire winner."