This morning a gas engineer arrived to do a service on our boiler. No sooner had he arrived, the boiler started throwing error codes – triggering the most amusing jobsworth description I’ve heard in some time – “I’m only here to service – not to diagnose faults” .

We realised that the boiler was behaving much like a portable television set from the 1970s – if you stayed away from it, it worked fine – if you so much as breathed near it, it acted up.

Towards the end of the engineer’s visit, he asked about seeing the radiators around the house – and probably saw my horror-struck expression. That would mean entering my teenage daughters bedrooms. Anybody with teenage girls will probably start laughing at this point – let’s just say that if you didn’t know a room belonged to a 14 to 18 year old girl, you might imagine the house had either been burgled, or that we had squatters staying in those rooms.

Suffice to say, Miss 16 in particular is in all sorts of trouble this evening for the state of her hell-hole bedroom, and the lies she had pedalled when asked if it was tidy.

Shortly after the engineer left, I joined a conference call with work – the second of the day – which I repeatedly had to leave to answer the door.

Why do random events stack up in such ridiculous ways? I’m struggling to remember a work meeting where somebody *didn’t* come to the door half-way through the call. I suppose it’s the same for everybody though – and having to leave mid-call usually raises a few smiles throughout those participating.

Most of the parcels were presents for my other half’s birthday next week. At least I’m doing better this year than the year I was working in Germany, stayed up half the night trying to pull a project out of the fire, and completely forgot. She was *not* happy.

In other news, I started watching season 2 of “Upload” last night – the comedy on Amazon Prime about a guy who’s consciousness is uploaded into a virtual world following his death. It’s become something of a late-night favourite.


Time to wind things up for the day. Somehow it’s already 6pm. Time for dinner, and a dive down the internet rabbit hole to see what friends have been up to today.

3 replies on “Interrupted”

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