Max averts disaster

The hot water has been decidely tepid lately. Thorough investigation revealed that despite Mrs Doubleu using the hairdryer as an emergency personal heating device, the radiators were in fact still working pretty well. It was clear though that at least one part of the combi boiler was not working.

We arranged to get a man in. An appointment was booked. He came. A part was ordered. Time passed. Then the man came again, and went - wrong part. Today he came back with the right part, fixed the boiler and had a self-congratulatory cuppa (strang, mulk, wi twa shuggas - part Geordie, part Glaswegian he was), then he foxtrotted.

I tried to make my lunch but kept being disturbed by Max. I suspected the racket was direct insubordination secondary to having been locked in his room during the plumbing procedure. It could also have been the chorizo I was having for lunch - that can make Max a bit cranky when he thinks Jeff might be ahead of him in the queue.

But no, Max wasn't hassling me. He was miaowing (which is rare) and trying to force way into the cupboard under the stairs. I chased him away a couple of times, but he was persistent, so I opened the cupboard to find water streaming from the boiler.

"And they don't think I'm smart enough to be an outside cat," thought Max as he settled down with his blankie, satisfied with his Lassie-like efforts. Meanwhile lunch was on hold as I tried to get hold of the plumber, again.