2009 — 9 October: Friday
It's 00:36 or so and I've recently got back from Gill and Chris, tummy stuffed and funny bone / visual cortex stimulated (by a recording of a live gig by Tim Minchin) and some amiable pre-birthday chit-chat. A nice smooth drive back on an almost empty A34, plenty of stars visible, and just time for tonight's picture of Christa before I call it a day:
My next excitement will be the installation of a new radiator in the bathroom. I'll need to raid the piggy bank for that, of course.
G'night.
Good news, bad news
It's now 10:52 and the good news is that the bad news could be worse, I guess. Though not much. It's only stuff, David. The new bathroom radiator was predicted to be an exact fit in the old one's gap, and we can even salvage a couple of connectors from the one that's been leaning, neglected, by one of the sheds since early 2007 offering a resthome for enormous spiders. But the new radiator's connectors are flush rather than offset, so the system is now being completely drained so he can do a spot of pipework.
I've also stumbled accidentally upon the very best time to shop in Waitrose (namely, 09:00 on a Friday morning) not that I did so; I merely used their car park to leave my getaway car while I did a smash'n'grab on my piggy bank shop.
But the bad news is the amount of oily corrosive sludge still in the system despite that Power Flush. It seems I'm very lucky that the system has lasted the 28 years it has. I'm now staring unavoidably at a complete new heating system — boiler, hot tank,1 radiators and pipework. The domestic upheaval to fitted carpets (the pipes live under the floorboards) and a fairly extensive set of books scattered around hither and yon is a mildly unpleasing prospect. Well, appalling, actually. But not one I have to face before 2010. With any luck we'll get blatted by a giant asteroid before then.
The thought occurs to me that it might just be easier to move house...
Worse?
Well, yes, actually. The system has a myriad of problems, but the main one at the moment (following departure of plumber of course) is the fact that the boiler's ancient pilot light won't now relight, so the house will now start gently cooling towards ambient. Still, at least I know where the ski-suit and the thicker quilts are. I could always decamp to the living room and cluster round the plasma gas fire. We've already agreed on the need for a complete new system. I'm just not sure I'll survive until February/March though. Thank goodness for climate change...
It's time (13:55) for some hot food, methinks!
Where there's a will...
Turns out the trick is to remove the boiler cover, exposing the pilot light. Use an old-fashioned "Lucifer" to do what the piezo-electric sparker has obviously forgotten how to. Hold down the gas valve button long enough to let the pilot flame heat the thermocouple. Replace the (thoroughly Dysoned) boiler cover. Switch back on the (oops, the electricity was never switched off, scratch that). Turn up the boiler thermostat to request heat. Sit back and bask in the warm glow of a job well done. Simple, really. A child of (nearly) 58 could do it.
If there's a loud bang from this part of the world and no further diary updates, CSI should be able to work out what I forgot. No bang so far (15:22) and a cosy house. Time for the cuppa that soothes. (Note to self: I still owe Brian another £20 — he cleaned me out of loose cash, the scoundrel.)
Happier topic
I've always been a great fan of Pete Frame's wonderfully (one might say "obsessively") detailed Rock Family Trees. They are a magnificent tribute to patience and the power of the Rotring pen, trust me. Well, young Mr Frame has finally hit the Interweb... Not cheap, but exquisite.