‘Before the water bottle,
people warmed bricks and stones in the oven;
others had earthenware,
tin and copper canisters for water.
By the early parts of last century,
hot-water bottles were recommended for every home and hospital in Europe and North America.
The pressure bears down, spreading the heat creamily on the head,
belly,
back or feet,
holding the masses of nerves totally rapt,
making them forget what it was they were screaming about.
You will find the bottle powerfully restorative,
belying its status as an artifact
too unsexy and unfashionable to be advertised.’
**2017 New York Times letter of recommendation**
There is a romance in the use of the hot water bottle that does not exist in the heating pad, which is powered by a plug in the wall. Whereas the water bottle…requires boiling the kettle, filling the bottle with steaming water, tucking into a bottle cover and nesting it in your bed while you go about your pre sleep routine. I highly recommend after a walk or yard work in the cold autumn day, fill the kettle with enough for a mug of tea and your water bottle bringing life and warmth to your bones from all fronts. It’s wonderfully calming and comforting and although the term self care is currently so overused - it is a simple and caring step to comfort and cozy oneself
My sweet introduction to the water bottle began when I met James and Rosemary at my clients Christmas party in London, over 20 years ago. James an American and his wife Rosemary, the quintessential English lady - who elegantly tolerated (with a smile and eye role) her outspoken American husband invited me to escape the city and visit them in Norfolk.
I travelled by train to the Diss Station where James picked me up and we drove the short distance home to the Old Rectory of Market Weston where they had made their home.
I have a hard time putting the feelings into words - other than I felt at home.
This huge rambling Rectory with its pebble drive, vast rooms and English Rose garden remained incredibly cozy. We basically lived between the kitchen (warmed by the Aga) and the living room (warmed by the fireplace).... it was mid winter in the UK ..dark and damp and very cold
Rosemary’s mother of 90+ years lived with them and was such a delight - she would perch on a little chair next to the stove while I cooked, ushering apologies for not being more useful- english through and through
Very much in the throws of her interior design business Rosemary would be off each morning leaving James, Granny, and I as well as a number of cats and 2 Greyhounds.
I would explore, pulling on wellies and take the dogs on walks and then home to the kitchen, beside the warm Aga - teapot always full and a constant range of pots simmering away - it was bliss.
The English country life enraptured me - Slow and Sweet. The kitchen radio programmed to Radio 4 - dimming the volume when we all turned in for the night but it remained on - an interview, The Archers, Desert Island Discs, Shipping Forecast (ultimate comfort)....
In this home I learned the joy and necessity of the water bottle. Each night Rosemary.....so elegant in her pleated tweed skirts… would put two kettles on, filling 4 water bottles just before situating the cats beds on the Aga. The water bottle was a lifesource in the cold bedroom - often I’d run up, chuck it in the bed, then back downstairs to drink tea - giving the bottle a chance to work its warming magic. Since then I have rarely gone a night fall or winter without a water bottle. I travel with mine and always fill before a long ferry journey off island. I have gifted countless bottles and covers because it is like sending a warm hug.....do not be fooled into thinking this comfort can be achieved with a heating pad or electric blanket. It’s the process of water into kettle, kettle onto stove, water warming, filling bottle....it is so powerfully restorative and ultimately so comforting .... just snuggle up.
With much love and merriment I have spent the past few weeks making water bottle covers.
Each unique and special. Made from beautiful fabrics, clipped and sewn together on a vintage Singer Sewing Machine. Lovingly made, no one is the same - I hope to spread warming coziness These make the perfect gift - I have tucked a poem in each pouch knowing it will land with the right person.
The Old Rectory Aga 🤍
