Bleeding love...

Well it worked...

All it took was for my best friend, Mrs S, to call the husband asking how to bleed her radiator.  Overhearing the conversation, I stepped in...

'If you think that you are bleeding hers before mine, then you are treading on very thin ice, my friend'.  This was accompanied with one of my 'looks'.  These are renowned in my house, and are not to be trifled with, especially when the eyes peer over the top of the varifocals a la Mrs Slocombe. 

Handing over the phone to me, I chatted to Mrs S about various matters, including warm drawers, and twenty minutes later, by which time we'd exhausted every plumbing joke we could think of, two out of the three jobs were done.  The house was cosy this morning when I came downstairs, and last night, I managed to have something which I haven't had for eons....Warm pyjamas.

The shower is still doing a passable impression of Crazy Daisy (see below) but I mustn't push him.

I had a fantastic day yesterday (how could it have been anything otherwise since I started it with toasty warm drawers).  Working for Binland, I get to visit the most weird and wonderful places, and yesterday was the turn of an Energy from Waste plant.  What this basically does, is take all your black bin waste and turn it into electricity.  Enough to power over 38,000 homes.  Of course, this is an average figure, as they don't allow for my house, on those days when all four children are here, with every light, television and PC on.  

I was the only female there, naturally, but rigged out in hard hat, hi-viz, sturdy boots and ear defenders, you would have been hard pushed to tell that.  I could have been anything from a 23 year old lad to Mother Theresa under all that lot.

Hard hats always play havoc with my hair, and getting back into the car three hours later, with the four chaps I'd gone there with, I apologised for taking up so much of the car cabin space with my Crystal Tips hair do.  One of them joked that perhaps it might have been wiser to leave the hard hat on, and that he wasn't convinced that the hair wasn't  attached.  This is a brave thing to say to a 54 year old woman with rampant curls, and I can only assume that he is either wife-free and therefore not trained in what not to say, or that he was feeling brave as he was sitting in the front.  

Either way, his card is marked....