Since first thing this morning, there has been
– No Internet
– No internet and no pilot light in the boiler
– No internet, no pilot light in the boiler, and no central heating
– No central heating, No pilot light, No Hot Water (the internet came back at this point, but how warm does the internet keep you at night?)
– No central heating, no hot water, cold water, or, in fact, water.
This is where we are now.
There are good things to be said about this situation. We’ve put the gas fire on for the first time ever and, curled up in front of it on my ikea cushions in my ikea blanket I felt quite the cosiest person in the room.
Which, to be fair, I was, since I was sitting so damned close I was blocking the heat from getting more than three feet from the grate.
Restored to the sofa with my popsicled beloved, we’re now discussing the prospects for the rest of the night, hygienically speaking. Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anything more disgustingly, hideously, middle-class than the prospect of a toilet cistern filled with waitrose sparkling water. Oh, apart possibly from that paragraph above where I mentioned Ikea twice. That was pretty disgustingly smuggyclass.
I wasn’t going to write about this at all. I was going to write about something else. Still, the bathroom thing is worrying me a little. We phoned the water people, whose reassuring recorded message assured us they were ‘aware of a problem in our area’. Oh good. Well, so are we.
We also are aware, messrs Wettywetwetwaterpeeps. Because we’re the people that aren’t at all wet. Not even damp. Not even a bit.
I’m going to go now, to think about weeing. But not actually wee.
There you go.
It’s all about keeping you informed, blogging. Apparently.