Hot water, and everything!

'Morning, Roberts.'
'Hi, our boiler is broken. Can we have it fixed, please?'
'Sure, no problem. FYI, we're gonna send some 12 year olds round to look at it, but they won't be qualified, so then we'll send someone else round a few days later. He'll say he doesn't have the parts. Then the landlord will decide he wants someone else to look at it. So he'll send three people round for a quote, after which we may eventually get something done. That ok?'

The day arrived. We were all relatively hungover as it had been Maggie's birthday the night before. Lucky Maria managed to get a shower in before they turned the water off (without telling us). The rest of us weren't so lucky. I emerged eventually to find six plumbers in our kitchen. that's right, six. Word had obviously got round the plumber's world about the saga of our boiler. I think they were sitting round, drinking tea and exchanging stories about what day they'd been round to look at it.

"Yeah, I was here Tuesday. Had right keruffle with it. It wasn't happy, I tell ya."
"Really? Well, I was here Thursday. Gave me a headache, it did."
They seemed to be having a brilliant time at their little convention. Ha. Just fit the boiler, please.

And then, miraculously, it was done. The radiators were hot to the touch. The kitchen tap could be used to run hot water for the washing up. Bliss. We sat in front of our telly, without three layers on for the first time in weeks, marvelling at this new luxury of heating.

'Shit!' Martin jumped up from the couch. "Something dripped on me!"
We gazed upwards to see droplet forming on the lounge ceiling, directly below the bathroom.

Brrrilliant.