In all households there is a ritual to the build up to Christmas and the winter months ahead. And our house is no different. The moment the temperate reaches zero degrees the boiler stops working.
An annual event that has enriched our lives for the last 5 years.
A routine of getting up at 5.30am into the freezing loft whilst trying not to disturb the kids to reboot the boiler, whispering under your breath “This is the last year I’m doing this. The fucking boiler has got to go. I hate that bloody plumber.” Etc etc.
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