Baby, it's cold in here!

Borrowing Iseult's ( or Pudgy White Fingers, as I sometimes call her) laptop for writing and her den is absolutely freezing! I am a monkey, I am used to (and expect) a warm climate. I must insist that she either gets a heater into this place or moves the laptop downstairs where I can write in the relative warmth, like a civilised person. How can I tap into my muse when my paws - and, more importantly, my massive brain - are frozen? Darn Irish weather, wish I was in New Zealand.