Here I am! Yes, I know I’m two days early in posting but I really must tell you all about the miracles (okay they are weenie minor occurrences in most peoples lives) that have happened since I last blogged. This Yorkshire Terrier is dead excited, can’t you tell?
Mama J has reached the dizzying heights of having an organised life. You didn’t think I was going to say she’d conquered the grand scale of Mount Everest over this two week period did you? Remember we are still working on her putting one foot in front of another and gliding swiftly and effortlessly (yes that means with ease and grace Mama J) across the pavements in our vicinity.
Mama J has bought herself (the drama is palpable here) a diary and an address book! Okay you can stop those drums rolling now please, my ears drums are buzzing like a city centre filled with drunken revellers on a Saturday night. I know most people have all their data such as diary dates of interest and contact information stored on their mobile phones these days but our Mama J likes to keep the stationery sector going in a traditional old school manner. Well, that’s my reasoning behind it all and my way of thinking Mama J is keeping the economy afloat following the Brexit leave vote last summer. Mama J’s reasoning is that having all this information stored in her mobile phone eats not so elegantly into her data and watching it going down was starting to bring her out in full scale panic followed on by a heat filled anxiety rash. Crack open that address book and diary, grab a pen and start writing Mama J, we can’t have you having data filled panic attacks can we?
On receiving her new diary and address book Mama J proceeded to fill them in using her finest handwriting skills. I say started as after a few hours (yes Mama J knows an awful lot of people and their vital statistics) of penning peoples information down and popping in her holiday dates her handwriting turned from almost legible (she writes like an eight year old at the best of times) to spider scrawling across the page at the end of her mammoth data entry session.
Now Mama J’s organised I do fear that she maybe taking things too far as at 10.47am every day she jumps up and goes to the toilet for a wee. Then she goes into the kitchen and ticks it off in her diary to say that she’s been!
Last Friday evening the ice age hit our lives. Don’t worry you haven’t missed out on some apocalyptic event while watching the six o’clock News. This event only hit three people and an extremely cute Yorkshire Terrier, who were plunged by a faulty boiler into realms of coldness they’ve never felt before. Okay so Mama J did ride a horse in temperatures of minus fourteen before but she’s an absolute loony so that really doesn’t count.
Yes, on Friday evening Grandpa said to Granny enquiringly, “Why isn’t the heating on?” On checking the boiler all the lights were off (well apart from a very telling yellow warning light that is) and it wasn’t playing its usual show tune. On pressing the yellow reset button the boiler would fire up for five minutes then not work. They tried this a few times, as well it works so hard and may need a rest, only to be met with the same issue, the boiler wasn’t performing that night and its show Director okay the Plumber needed a call.
Grandpa found our trusty Plumber’s number and dialled it with such gusto to be told, “I’m just packing to go on holiday for eight days.” Our Plumber is fantastic and knows our heating system inside out, however he’s an extremely galavanting man. Let’s just say he’s a work to live kind of a guy and we definitely needed this to be the opposite way round in our moment of crisis.
He did say that a part may have gone and advised Grandpa where to find this part and how to fit it (yes because my Grandpa really is a Super Mario Brother). On sourcing the part early Saturday morning and fitting it, Grandpa fired the boiler up for all of ten minutes (our timings were improving ever so marginally. The Great British Cycling Team would be so impressed with our marginal gains) then it died a death again.
The next thing we did was ring a twenty-four hotline boiler repair company. Their twenty-four response is obviously on a different time scale to ours, as we are still waiting for a call back from them a week later.
Grandpa had one more solution while we all shivered and shook our way through the weekend and that was a clay pigeon shooting buddy of his who is a Heating Engineer. Chris visited our home at 5.35pm on Monday evening and he has been given the title of this weeks Miracle Man. He had worked out the solenoid had gone and replaced it with a new one and after a nervous minutes wait the boiler fired up and has continued in its mission to fire up ever since.
I have stopped wandering around like a chilly snow woman in my largest hoodie coat and the irreplaceable in our lives blow heats have gone away back into the loft. The only thing we do need our Plumber to take a look at when he returns from his latest holiday auditioning for the role of Dirty Dancing’s Johnny Castle (yes he likes to shimmy his way around the dance floor) is the fact that when the boiler isn’t firing up all the lights are off, even the power one. Is it just that my family is now totally boiler obsessed and it has always done this or do we have another heating crisis waiting to happen?
The last miracle happened yesterday lunchtime when Mama J found the Holy Grail! You may remember in January me telling you all about Mama J’s quest to find the perfect red handbag and that she didn’t have any luck in finding one better than her pink Fossil one. You may also remember her in the end giving up and getting a black one, in the same style as her pink one.
Well, yesterday while on a shopping trip with Granny the pair decided to go into Fossil and there almost with a glistening halo over it on the shelf was a perfectly different but equally pocket filled red handbag. Mama J’s eyes lit up as she and Granny looked around the bag in pure wonderment. Mama J walked grinning as she stepped to the counter and purchased her new bag. She then wandered around the rest of the shopping centre exclaiming, “It is fate! It is destiny! It is a bloody miracle!”
See folks the moral of this story is that when you stop really wanting/looking for something it always turns up. So Mama J doesn’t want to own a Porsche or indeed want to win the lottery, no not ever!