Neither actually. I'd like to keel over in my late 90s while seducing a nubile young lady. Ah, wouldn't we all? Well no maybe not all, but most of us. Quite frankly I have been so cold lately, I would welcome a heatwave... yes even an extreme heatwave. I know how to cool off, I'm finding it a real bugger these days trying to stay warm, or warmish.

My parents loved the cooler weather and absolutely loathed our summer heat. In fact, in his later years my father rarely ventured out of our house during the daylight hours of July, August and September. And I notice that this mentality lingers on.

A good friend of mine - and an otherwise sane human being, makes it a point to be off the island during the hottest summer months - and where does he go? I'll tell you. He bunks off to the UK where, he reckons, he is able to get a good night's sleep without ever needing to cast off his duvet. He views my penchant for heat as some kind of congenital sickness.

Well whatever it is I am currently undergoing withdrawal pains for summer warmth. And it's not that I haven't experienced very cold weather. As a young newly graduated professional I spent some time working in Ontario, Canada. The summer months were pleasantly warm and fairly still; but once winter arrived it did so with a vengeance. In the weeks leading up to Christmas the weather got gradually colder, but without the added problems that come with snow. Then... right on cue - a blizzard of Arctic proportions descended on Boxing Day. I was pretty well cocooned in my sixth floor flat, central heating and all that. But when I descended in the lift to collect my car from the basement garage - I experienced the full force of a Canadian winter. The ambient temperature dropped to minus 15 Celsius at night and believe me... that is bloody cold.

I did try to condition myself to living in a mammoth deep freeze, I even learnt to ski, kind of - but I can't pretend I enjoyed the experience and I couldn't wait to get back to our imperfect (but it suits me) Mediterranean climate.

I have also experienced extremely hot weather, no not here but in my student days, working as a barman in a beach bar in Crete. The mercury regularly hit the 40 plus mark during my short sojourn, but that heat didn't faze me in the slightest. If I started to get a bit too sweaty I simply marched down to the sea and cooled off.

This morning, while waiting for Salvu to serve me in the village shop, I eavesdropped on some of the village ladies complaining bitterly about the cold weather. Gracie, a neighbour of mine, asserted that it is not just the cold, extreme though it may be, it is also the damp that makes it seem so severe. I have lived in the area a long time, but I don't ever remember other villagers complaining so emphatically. They usually eschew the British habit of discussing the weather in favour of more pressing matters. Such as... why is Antonella's new baby so dark? Or how the hell can Gianni from Port Street afford a top-of-the range Mercedes on the salary of a ministry messenger?

Maybe we are becoming more like the Brits... next thing we'll be applying for Maltxit.