The Big Chill

Well, Boiler Man (Alf) arrived at 10.35am on Saturday morning. He left at 10.40am with a promise to return "maybe Monday" with the part that our boiler requires. Five minutes to note

a) how cold it was in the house

b) that we've got a "top of the range" boiler

c) that no doubt we're missing hot water "That's what people take for granted you know!"

d) that it'll only be a matter of "unclipping one bit and putting in the new part but it's going to cost a fair bit oh, and here's my call out bill which I'll need to take for now"

I stayed out of the way while David dealt with him (to be honest I was standing in front of the oven warming my bottom half) but I noted that

a) plumbers are good at stating the bloody obvious

b) I know, so why isn't it frigging well working (my language deteriorates when I'm stressed)

c) No shit Sherlock (see "b" brackets)

d) 90 quid? £18 per minute? I'm in the wrong job. That's more than David Beckham gets, surely?

So. Whilst we wait for Alf to return "maybe Monday" we are managing. The kettle has been overworked so much that I now apologise to it every time I click it on. Mac is okay, he's been staying with Bea since Saturday morning and rings me every now and again to say things like "I'm a bit hot mummy, I had to have my window open last night!" and "It's really warm in Auntie Bea's bathroom!" which isn't helping David who would live in the bathroom if he could. He's never happier than when his splashing around in the bath or shower - the enforced abstention is killing him. He's even seriously thinking about taking Marjorie Stewart up on her offer of "taking his ablutions next door"

The dogs have taken to dragging their fleeces around with them - Junior Dog looked like Little Red Riding hood whilst he was waiting for his dinner last night, draped in his red fleece. They're all still sharing the one basket and spent last night fighting with David for bed space. They're not usually allowed on the bed but needs must. I had hounds packed tightly around me which meant that David had about six inches of mattress and no duvet. I woke up this morning to find him wrapped in his dressing gown, perched on the edge of the bed.

I've discovered that fan heaters only heat the air directly in front of them. We have ten (donated by neighbours) dotted all around the house and more cold spots than hot. I think that Gladys is also complaining about the cold because things are being moved around the house again. We lost the TV remote control this morning (come on, the TV is the only thing keeping us going!) and found it after a frantic search (David, not me, I was wrapped in my duvet on the sofa under Senior Dog) in the cutlery drawer.

I'm cooking a curry for tonight, Mac will be taken to school by Flavia in the morning and David is, for the first time in ages, looking forward to going to work. My healthy eating plan has gone out of the window and I'm dreaming about doughnuts and Sara Lee desserts. And hot chocolate. And custard. And fondues. And........