It's a big winter ahead for us custodians of the thermostat...

HUSBANDS - have you had ‘The Conversation’ with your better half yet? Ah, you must have done by now. The clocks are going back tonight after all.

Let me set the scene: You’re sitting watching TV in the early evening and the darkness outside descends, sending a faint but just perceptible chill into the living room air as you shut the curtains.

Suddenly, the missus sat beside you does a little chattering noise with her teeth, accompanied by the tiniest sliver of a shiver.

Ugh oh.

It’s a hint.

You choose to ignore it.

A minute’s silence, and the chatter and shiver are repeated, only amplified somewhat.

A broader hint.

You glance at your watch. 7.45pm. Sure, it’s nearly time for bed in three hours or so. No point putting the heat on now, is there? Nah.

Again, you choose silence - that man thing where, if you ignore a problem, it will go away.

But this one, like nearly all of them, won’t go away.

She chatters and shivers a third time, and this time you snap: “Put on a cardigan if you’re cold, I’m fine.”

“But you have your coat on. And a jumper. And a t-shirt. Take your coat off and see if you’re still OK.”

“Fine... fine!

“Ah, actually I didn’t need the coat after all, it’s nice and snug in here, just hug a cushion if you’re chilly.”

“Christ - your hands are blue. Admit it, it’s cold. I’ll put the heat on.”

“No, no, you stay there, I’ll do it.”

You get up in a huff, sigh, and fulfil your duty as custodian of the heating switch, mentally watching those hard-earned fivers and tenners burst into flames as you flick it.

In any given winter, the dad and husband - for some bizarre reason which might stretch back to the days when fellas kept the fire going all day and night in caves - puts himself in sole charge of the central heating.

But this winter, as energy prices soar into the stratosphere along with the gas and oil we burn - oh my, our role has suddenly become a matter of the gravest importance.

Of course, we will allow the heat on - we’re not Scrooges after all - but only if the temperature plummets below a certain level - ooh, say -20C?

OK, I exaggerated the above exchange and I’m really not that passive aggressive guy, but I have found myself in recent weeks taking on my role as custodian of the thermostat with a renewed vigour as the colder nights start to set in.

A few weeks back, the eldest lad asked if he could have the heat on upstairs. My eyes almost popped out of my head - dear reader, he was dressed in SHORTS and T-SHIRT!

“Come back when you’re dressed for winter and still chilly,” I chided him loftily.

I was just getting into my stride with a “When I was a lad...” sermon, but I realised he had vanished back upstairs.

Five minutes later, on one of my regular foot patrols past the thermostat, I was shocked to notice the heat was now on upstairs: Had the lad defied me? Or had his weakling mother caved?

I would have brought this issue up at one of our regular ‘Family Meetings’, if we actually had a regular ‘Family Meeting’ (Note to self: introduce a regular ‘Family Meeting’ and put ‘Central Heating’ at the top agenda).

I must admit, keeping tabs on the heating amongst a family who seem to think Energy Crisis is the name of a 1980s electronic band is proving exhausting.

Monitoring it has become a 24-hour job, and winter hasn’t even arrived properly yet. I already wake up sweating, wondering if I left the immersion on.

A few times of late, I have even imagined hearing the whirr of the central heating - only to breathe a sigh of relief when I checked a radiator and found it was cold.

Did I say cold? No, not cold, wrong word - er, almost warm.

My sole comfort is I know I am not alone - that millions of husbands and dads across the land are enduring this cold war together at this difficult time for our wallets and bank accounts.

A woman on Twitter made light of this state of affairs this week, when she confided: “I put the heating on ages ago and the house is like a hot house, hubby rang to say he is not staying the night in Sligo but is nearly home... I’m opening doors and windows trying to cool the house... I see trouble ahead.”

Many people saw the funny side, but all I saw was the treachery involved, and wads of cash going up in smoke.

Am I becoming obsessive? Do I need to see a professional about this?

Actually, in my defence, it is a scientific fact that women feel the cold more than men - just like men feel a cold or the flu more than women (I may have made that last part up).

Seriously, studies have shown that women do tend to be more sensitive to temperatures than men. This is partly because, for a given bodyweight, women tend to have less muscle tissue to generate heat.

The hormone oestrogen also has a big impact here, because it has the side effect of thickening the blood slightly.

A 1998 study at the University of Utah found that women have hands, feet and ears that are 3C colder than a man’s.

To which I can only say, wear some gloves, woolly socks, and ear muffs while watching Netflix, then, ladies.