most of my friends think i am very funny for running away every time my landlord decides to come around with the plumber, an event that has occured twice in the last three weeks.

but, friends, ’tis not madness, there is method in it.

until my landlord texted me on monday evening, while i was having roast chicken and tuna steaks somewhere in east sussex, informing me that they were waiting for the water to be turned off by the council and that the mirror is still off the wall in the toilet (we have a HUGE mirror, like 4 feet high and 6 feet across, to hide the plumbing behind it) and that they will try to get the radiators replaced by this week, or else they will scrap the idea for now and try again another time.

another time! *faints*

i have had to move my bookshelf into the middle of the living room, and my desks are now inaccessible, my laptop is now on top of a 3 foot high speaker and i am perched off a stool and squished between the window and my aforementioned bookshelf as i am writing this. i have also discovered that my bed cover (a rather pretty sage green throw with tassels etc) is stained in one corner from radiator water, and my wall has dried radiator water streaks on it. yuck.

so, i am not doing this again, sometime in the future. i refuse. as such, i am not running away the next time the plumber comes - i will stand there with arms crossed and make sure he gets the damned thing done, or i will throw a screaming fit.

but at least the water is still running, because we have people coming around for dinner tonight, and they will be expecting proper food, not biscuits and crisps.