Young Einstein

We used to have a convector heater.

But we had to use it sparingly because it was expensive.

Which was a test in itself because positioning yourself in front of it on full blast, maximum temperature, sitting on the purple shag after a shower, your footprint minimised to present your entire body to the full force, curled up, grabbing your shins like a prostitute coming off heroin ...well.. it was one of life's great pleasures.

But it makes you cold.

That might be a paradox philosophically.

But scientifically, it is basic physics.

Evaporation causes cooling.

I remember informing my Mum of this fact.

"Oh...that's why feel cold in front of the [convector] heater after a shower".

(When you do square brackets, it means they didn't really say that word).

Yes it is, I thought.

You too, I thought.

How smart I am, I thought.

I let it hang in the air like Einstein had just walked into the kitchen.

Nothing more needed to be said.

Sometimes it's best to appear as though you could clarify any scientific point, it just being that today evaporation was the relevant one to delve into.

The reality was of course was that that was the only thing I learned from science of any particular practical use.

Nobody in the household had recently asked me to copper-plate a willing cathode. (Which was a relief because the only deep blue liquid in the house was some Mr Matey bubble bath which I strongly felt wasn't up to the job. It may have been a bottle of fun but it was useless for electrolysis).

Nobody had suggested I get the baking tray and some pepper and duplicate the ripple tank experiment to measure the diameter of a molecule of olive oil.

Nobody! Despite prompting. 

If I didn't know better, I'd think they didn't give a monkeys. Where would we even have got the olive oil from? We were strictly a sunflower house. Not like those arses at number 49. I bet they had olive oil coming out of their ears.

But explain why you become cold in front of the heater after a shower and you have a perfect dining-out anecdote for a 9-year-old.

Yesterday, however I was in a Turkish steam room.

I'm not sure what made it Turkish. Nobody was handing out kebabs. But there was certainly no shortage of steam.

So much so that when I entered the tiny cupboard, I announced a bellowing "Good afternoon, everybody". It was only when I got a little further in that I realised nobody else was in da house.

If you are a little out of puff after a swim of course, a Turkish steam room is a mildly uncomfortable place to go when you're still panting. The speed at which the balsam hits the back of your throat does suffocate you a little, until you get it under control. (I don't actually know what balsam is. It just seemed like the right word).

But what I'm getting to is this.

When I exhaled onto my skin. Blew my skin, if you will. It burned. It burnt.

I did it again.

It frazzled, screamed and seared.

What was going on?

I know...the answer is obvious. I had just entered a parallel universe.

You're not alone. I thought of that first as well.

It had happened when I'd open the door, and walked through clouds of steam. I never missed an episode of Quantum Leap or Stars in Their Eyes. 

All the clues were there.

And yet..after a while I self-thought that maybe there's another theory.

I blew on my skin again.

It burnt. Again.

But my skin was wet. And evaporation causes cooling.

Think, man.

I refused to Google it but it took me a while to work out.

I knew I had the principles in place.

I was blowing my skin dry in a wet room.

But what I was doing wasn't causing cooling, it was causing heating.

So it can't have been evaporation, it must have been..come on, I can do this... condensation.

Blowing on your skin in a steam room must cause more condensation.

The (now relatively) cold air from your breath brings the hot wet air down in temperature.

Presumably that liquid volume on my skin increases, squeezed from the copious steam rather than from my breath.

As it lands on your skin and dumps its water, it delivers up its latent energy as heat directly to your skin. 

To my skin.

And burns.

Thank you very much.

Einstein signing off.

I have an appointment with a bread poultice. And you if don't know what they are, you can't afford one.