I'm moving house again...


Fortunately I'm not going far. I'm actually moving into the bedroom for a couple of days. Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of entertaining a plumber in my living room for four hours. I was slightly traumatised by the experience, which is why I only referred to it briefly in a blog post about death, cheese & catfood.

The man was here because he'd assured my brother that what he really needed to sort out the poor performance of the central heating system was a power-flush of all the pipes. To be fair, having turned my bathroom into a recreation of the chocolate waterfall in Willy Wonka's factory, he did appear to be right. Apparently water's not meant to be that colour.

Unfortunately the chap's flush didn't have quite as much power as he thought, and having plumbed the depths of my central heating system for half a day, he only managed to restore a small amount of heat. Which lasted about five days before vanishing completely.

Admittedly, having radiators like ice packs and no hot water in the middle of February isn't ideal, but frankly it still seemed preferable to the alternative: clearing my entire living room, lifting the floorboards and replacing the blocked pipe under the floor. Anyone who's seen my flat will know that I don't exactly live a minimalist existence, and the carpets I spent £600 on 18 months ago can now barely be seen under all my stuff. The plumber suggested getting one of those storage containers and parking it outside. I think he meant a skip.

Personally I said I'd rather die of hypothermia, but my brother felt that wouldn't look good on his record as a landlord, so the upshot is that we're having it done. We don't have a date yet, but I thought I'd make a start, so having stolen a couple of boxes from outside the Co-op yesterday morning, I spent the rest of the day sorting out a load of books to give to charity. I felt I had more than I needed. Especially as I don't read.

Unfortunately, having filled the box above with literature for the third world (I'm sure they love a good horror novel), I now can't lift it. Even if I take out my cat. But still, my Mum's coming down on Friday and she's as strong as an ox. I'll let her lug it to the car.