Books for instance. I'm reading the prequels to Philip Reeve's Mortal Engines series. The first book (Fever Crumb) is set in a futuristic 17th century London, but for the second (Web of Air) we've moved to an island off the coast of what used to be Spain. It's warm down there and our heroine can go wandering round the night-time streets without first putting on a wool coat- which is nice. When you're engrossed in a book you forget you're cold- so who needs central heating?
Odi rang to say there was something wrong with Christa and she was taking her to the hospital. Then she rang again to say she was just putting the kids to bed, so whatever was wrong can't have been so wrong after all, can it? We think that by "taking her to hospital" she actually meant "ringing the doctor". And I suppose the doctor must have said soothing words.
The boring thing about having a body is it spends so much of its brief existence sniffling and sneezing and aching and paining (and feeling cold). Sometimes I wonder "Why bother?" And then I remind myself it's all about building character and character is a good thing to have- and that's my belief and I'm sticking to it.