Dirty girl

So the oil duly arrived on Wednesday morning. Doubting Thomas that I am, I took the whole thing with a crystal of salt, and refused to become excited. Discouragingly this turned out to be the correct response, because although Lara turned the heating on, and held her hand under the water emanating from the "hot" tap for lengthy periods of time, it was manifestly (to me, not her, her hand was so cold she couldn't feel it) not warm. This means that it's now a week since I've fully immersed my body in water. Ewwww. I've been trying to psych myself up for a cold bath in the evening, but the main problem has been the change in the weather. I suppose I could mull some wine to go with it, instead of a chilled beer...

We still can't use the shower at the moment either, though this isn't such a problem with no hot water; but the latest development in bathroom has been the death of the light switch. It wasn't even a switch to start with, so that may have been the problem. It's of the string genus (kind of the pull chain of the lighting world), which was never properly attached to the ceiling in the first place. It hasn't actually fallen off or anything, but nothing happens when you pull it. I'm thinking the flat really needs a candle chandalier, a weeping wraith in white, and a couple of suits of armour on the stairs. Oh, and wolfhound or two.

After spending vast quantities of Wednesday evening going outside to push the red button (it would have been fun if the boiler had blown up, I mean it is a red button), instead of working on questions for my behavioural-based interview this morning, we still had no hot water. We made a pact to go and ask one of the neighbours if they could help us this evening. The BFG has introduced himself to both of them, so we're tossing up whether to ask the ones on the right of the broken hoe, or the ones on the left (no breakages there). It'll probably end up whoever answers the door. We are desperate at this stage.

Plans for the weekend include: pink and black balloons, pink bubbles, Italian for supper (and possibly the rest of the week, depending on how many people turn up), baking the coffee chocolate cake that just about killed Grant and made Mr. Tumnus bounce off the walls all morning (he doesn't drink coffee), pink gin, partying until dawn on Sunday, and beer for breakfast; it's Lara's engagement/birthday weekend. Bring it on...