Our central heating at home has died on its arse. Marvellous. The pressure seems to have dropped right off and the temperature readout needle thingy has fallen below the bottom of the scale. This made the already quite difficult exercise of getting out of bed and going to work even harder than usual, as the tentative foot-out-of-the-end-of-the-duvet told me that the temperature in my room was hovering somewhere around the freezing point of oxygen. I’m not good at getting out of bed anyway, and the possibility of actually being frozen alive on the way to the bathroom meant that the normal “extra 5 minutes” in bed was in serious danger of becoming an extra couple of hours or two. Or three.
Anyway, Jez or I will have to ring our (actually very lovely and reliable) landlady later on and get them to come and have a looksee what’s gone wrong – thankfully, this being a rented flat, we don’t have to face the plumber breathing in through his teeth and telling us our pump has gone ourselves.
Fortunately, the heating in the office seems to be working again. Lovely.
I can sympathise. In the rented flat I used to live in we couldn’t set the central heating to come on as the dial was broken, so you had to get up in the morning and switch it on yourself. Repeated attempts to get the landlord to fix it were met with ‘yes, we’re looking into it’ or ‘it’s too old, can’t get the parts’. In two and a half years it never did get fixed and we spent two and a half winters getting up in sub-zero temperatures and freezing while we waited for the damn thing to fire up. Not nice. Hope yours gets fixed soon.
Ah, the old morning fight with the duvet. Can’t say I’ve won many of them recently…
I got Topper a Guardian/Observer fleece to ward off the winter chill. They are so cozy 🙂
Well, upon arriving home, it seems that all the radiators are working again – except the ones in my room. Bah.