The day my house broke
It all started late Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Our morning showers were lukewarm at best. Brrr. So I peered at the boiler which stuck its bottom lip out and refused to work.
I rang the boiler repair service (that I pay for) and after being on hold for over an hour was advised they couldn't get to me 'til the following Tuesday (tomorrow). Grrr.
So Thursday night I decided to work late in the warm.
When I got home, I was delighted to discover that in my absence, a pipe had had an attack of the vapours and burst. Excitingly, it had burst right under the eaves, so the resulting waterfall went up into the roof and down into the utility room and conservatory. I'd always fancied a swimming pool, although it wasn't quite the weather for swimming...
It then took me 3hrs to find a plumber who'd actually come out (they were either fully booked with similar jobs, or understandably not wanting to drive in that weather lest they wipe themselves out on near-impassable roads in freezing fog). He charged me the standard emergency call out fee which covers the first hour of work, but as he fixed the pipe v v quickly, he also took a stern look at the boiler and shamed it into working. Hurrah!
On his way out, he smelled gas. Yay! I reported it to Transco at 9pm who said they'd be with me within 2hrs, and in the meantime, I must turn the gas off (taking the central heating, hot water and gas fires out of the equation); turn the electric off (byebye lighting, hot meals and hot drinks); open the doors and windows (letting the -15 outside temperature in); and wait.
I rang them back at midnight when I was still gasmanless, and they assured me he was coming. So I put more layers on, added gloves, wound a scarf around my face, donned a foolish hat, and wrapped myself in a duvet, which attracted the cats to form a warm and fuzzy codpiece. When the thermostat told me the house had got down to -1 inside, I shut the doors and windows hoping the gas had been sufficiently ventilated before I became a 'Bertsicle on the sofa.
The gasman made a triumphant arrival (there would've been a fanfare but we were both too cold for bugling) at half past 8 the next morning. Grrr. Not his fault - he'd been working all night - but they could've told me so I could've got some kip. Anyhoo, there was a leak (I'd have snapped and run amok with my woolly accessories if there hadn't have been) and it only took him about half an hour to fix it. He also tested all my appliances while he was there and confirmed I am now a leak free zone.
Having had little sleep, and being stiff, frozen, malodorous and grumpy, I thought I'd work from home rather than inflict myself on my colleagues. But the network was down, so I had to gird my loins and go into the office. Not a pretty sight - the girding or the me.
After work, I went home and pretty much went straight to bed... which caused me to receive some gentle grief (the choirmistress is the master of quiet disapproval) for missing choir practice. Humph.
Still, all sorted now.
To celebrate, I spent all day Saturday in my new xmas PJs watching DVDs. Any excuse :)
I rang the boiler repair service (that I pay for) and after being on hold for over an hour was advised they couldn't get to me 'til the following Tuesday (tomorrow). Grrr.
So Thursday night I decided to work late in the warm.
When I got home, I was delighted to discover that in my absence, a pipe had had an attack of the vapours and burst. Excitingly, it had burst right under the eaves, so the resulting waterfall went up into the roof and down into the utility room and conservatory. I'd always fancied a swimming pool, although it wasn't quite the weather for swimming...
It then took me 3hrs to find a plumber who'd actually come out (they were either fully booked with similar jobs, or understandably not wanting to drive in that weather lest they wipe themselves out on near-impassable roads in freezing fog). He charged me the standard emergency call out fee which covers the first hour of work, but as he fixed the pipe v v quickly, he also took a stern look at the boiler and shamed it into working. Hurrah!
On his way out, he smelled gas. Yay! I reported it to Transco at 9pm who said they'd be with me within 2hrs, and in the meantime, I must turn the gas off (taking the central heating, hot water and gas fires out of the equation); turn the electric off (byebye lighting, hot meals and hot drinks); open the doors and windows (letting the -15 outside temperature in); and wait.
I rang them back at midnight when I was still gasmanless, and they assured me he was coming. So I put more layers on, added gloves, wound a scarf around my face, donned a foolish hat, and wrapped myself in a duvet, which attracted the cats to form a warm and fuzzy codpiece. When the thermostat told me the house had got down to -1 inside, I shut the doors and windows hoping the gas had been sufficiently ventilated before I became a 'Bertsicle on the sofa.
The gasman made a triumphant arrival (there would've been a fanfare but we were both too cold for bugling) at half past 8 the next morning. Grrr. Not his fault - he'd been working all night - but they could've told me so I could've got some kip. Anyhoo, there was a leak (I'd have snapped and run amok with my woolly accessories if there hadn't have been) and it only took him about half an hour to fix it. He also tested all my appliances while he was there and confirmed I am now a leak free zone.
Having had little sleep, and being stiff, frozen, malodorous and grumpy, I thought I'd work from home rather than inflict myself on my colleagues. But the network was down, so I had to gird my loins and go into the office. Not a pretty sight - the girding or the me.
After work, I went home and pretty much went straight to bed... which caused me to receive some gentle grief (the choirmistress is the master of quiet disapproval) for missing choir practice. Humph.
Still, all sorted now.
To celebrate, I spent all day Saturday in my new xmas PJs watching DVDs. Any excuse :)