This morning, when I got up to perform the daily ablutions, the water was only luke warm.
I wasn’t paying a huge amount of attention, and just assumed Jason had had a shower before he went to the airport and used what water was left in the tank, or that he might have altered the times the water came on.
I thought I would check the situation when I got home.
Which I did, by asking Tilly if she had used any hot water since she got in from school. She assured me that she had and it was fine.
I didn’t need to use the hot water again until just now when Tilly and I both wanted a shower before bed.
No hot water. Not a drop.
I asked Tilly again whether she had been sure that the water had been hot earlier.
She said: ‘Actually. It was only luke warm.’
ARGHHHH – just Arggghhh.
If, when I had asked her when I got home, she had said this, I would have checked the water myself, and then I could have asked Jason lots of searching questions about it when I spoke to him on Face Time later on.
It might, you see, be something reasonably straight forward. Jason was doing boilerish things at the weekend, and past experience has taught me that when doing amateur boiler type repair things it can be quite easy to do something really stupid like turn the hot water supply off and forget to turn it on again.
I need to make sure that this isn’t the case, before I pay some plumbing firm an exorbitant fee to come and make me feel like an utter twit.
Thus speaks the voice of bitter experience from the time we paid double time for someone to come and tell us in the week between Christmas and New Year that we had turned the boiler main switch off by leaning too hard on a packet of cornflakes in the same cupboard the switch was located in.
What a joyous memory that is.
I do not want to be adding photos to that particular album.
So I need to ask Jason first. But of course, he is now asleep. So it will have to wait until the early morning, when I am at my absolute peak in terms of sharpness, ability to formulate rational thought and relaxed conversational stylings, for me to talk to him.
I cannot wait.
Nor can I not admit to a tiny frisson of apprehension that it might be something rather more serious, as with our gas leak of only a few weeks ago. And the boiler is situated three feet from my side of the bed, separated from it only by a rather nasty B&Q door we haven’t had the time or funds to replace yet, and my extensive collection of jackets. I am somewhat worried about being blown to bits in bed.
There is a strange, hot dusty smell in Tilly’s room, which may have something to do with it, but then again may not. She wasn’t going to tell me about this either. Her solution was to notice that her room didn’t smell particularly great, and just spray L’Occitane green tea perfume around until she gave herself mild asphyxiation and a headache. When I came into the room to ask her about the hot water being really hot situation I nearly choked to death on an unpleasant bouquet of singed stuff with a top note of the vert.
I love that child to the marrow of her very bones, but sometimes, particularly sometimes when it is very late, and I want a shower, and I can’t have one, and there is a problem that might reasonably have been solved earlier, were it not for her vague approximation of answering pointed questions, I would quite like to beat her about the head with a bit of two by four.
I have done several things:
I have located the hot water override switch and turned it on, in the hope that if it is just a problem with the on/off switch or timer, that hot water will soon be forthcoming and I can grill Jason tomorrow as to how to reset the clock etc.
I have opened Tilly’s bedroom window very wide.
I have texted Jason asking him to call me at sparrow fart tomorrow, so that we can bill and coo amongst the hot water pipes.
I have not bashed my daughter about the head with a bit of two by four.
For this alone I deserve cake.
I have steeled myself for the almost inevitable fact that as my husband is out of the country, and I had plans for tomorrow – there will be no easy solution. Instead I will be trapped at home for large swathes of time waiting for some bloke with a monkey wrench to come and rob me blind, and if past experience has been anything to go by with this heating system, make things ten times worse before they get better.
Before you ask. Yes. It is now out of warranty.
And no, I wouldn’t have that firm back anyway, because it was their fault we nearly got exploded into molecules three weeks ago.
And no, I don’t know any good plumbers in the local area.