In much the same way as our car reminds us it’s nearly time for a service by illuminating a spanner and giving us a message about a service due soon, our boiler reminds us by not pissing working properly.
It started to play up the other day, while it was windy, and I put it down to wind whistling through it. But it’s clearly not that. It’s clearly just being a dick. And when it breaks somehow I am dragged in to every showering scenario that Carole goes through. I am put in charge of making sure she has hot water for her cleaning rituals.
When it comes to my shower, however. Sod it. I’m on my own.
Today, after a fruitful day under the sink being splashed with a variety of sinky-drain waters I went for a shower. I made sure the boiler had lit and was providing warm water. And then I got in.
I knew, as I was in it, that things were not good. It wasn’t as hot as it has been. But I thought it would be alright.
About 3/4 of the way through shaving my lovely face it went from hot to cold. Luckily, all I was left with was beard hair. I had washed all soap off me by this point, so as not to be one of those stereotypical people in the shower. In all honesty, having a shave was pushing it. I was chancing my arm by staying in so long. Like a lion tamer with his head in a lion’s mouth stopping in there to read a magazine. It wouldn’t end well.
What I particularly enjoy at the moment is that – and I’m sure this isn’t true – if I didn’t know any better I’d say the boiler not boiling is making the water colder. It’s like crisp, fresh cold water. The coldest of the cold. The sort of cold water you’d drink and enjoy for its refreshing coldness. Which obviously you don’t do when it’s threating to retreat your balls so far into your body you’d have to send a search party to find them.
There’s a man coming to have a look at it tomorrow. And up until this afternoon when it tried to freeze me, it has – of course – been on its best behaviour. Lighting every time we’ve needed it to. Staying lit. Providing heat and warmth. Because it loves to do that.
It’s a git.
We need a new one. But we don’t know where it can go. It can’t go where the old one is because the regulations about flue placement have changed and it’s all a nightmare.
Although, if we keep getting the engineer out, it won’t be long until we have a new boiler in an old shell – we’ve had a fair amount of new parts over the last five years or so. It’s like Trigger’s Broom.
If Trigger’s Broom was evil and froze people…