So Sid's out for the evening with his second wife (Rob) and may come home slightly the worse for wear and brandishing a bicycle tyre. If it's only slightly worse for wear this will constitute some sort of miracle. Meanwhile Knickers and I are home alone at Luso Towers and she has a new laptop, at which she is tapping away feverishly, much like I am, writing this. The philosophical question is, is this some modern act of communion or the ultimate in small bubbles of contemporary isolation? I can for example just as easily send her a message on Facebook as I can open my mouth and say something. The possibilities are endless.
Meanwhile, once more we have no hot water. Again. Even now the immersion heater is sat there in the cupboard, utterly inscrutable, keeping the secrets of its malfunction deep within. It's only two months or so since we last bussed in a range of professionals to inspect it and coax it back to life again, and it's sitting there again, resolutely vestigial.
That's really it. I did indicate that nothing substantive had occurred.
No comments:
Post a Comment