|Gratuitous Tony Robinson picture, courtesy of the BBC. HobNobs not pictured.|
Ah yes. The thing that distracted me from Christmas. Today, my truly wonderful Other Half (hereafter to be known as The Mysterious Mister Q, or just TMMQ for short) fixed my central heating system! If you have never been in the position of sitting in bed, wearing four layers but with the tip of your nose so cold that you fear it may actually have fallen off and be forming that lumpy thing that you're sitting on, leaving you with nothing but a nose-hole, like a syphilis sufferer in Primark jammies, you will not understand. But anyone who has, will. And, in the course of following TMMQ around the house with a little brass key, bleeding radiators and occasionally journeying back to the Boiler of Origin to tap the pressure valve, I found one of the most satisfying experiences known to man.
The hiss and squirt of a bleeding radiator.
|They look like this. Roughly. Only with more rust, and the paint behind them is peelier. Also there is dust. And dog hair.|
Okay. You can all go back to staring at the picture of Tony, sucking your teeth, shaking your heads and muttering "Really? I mean, seriously?' now. But if you'd like to leave a comment, telling me about your own peculiar enjoyments, I shan't judge. I may laugh, of course, but I shan't judge...