Washing

I'm sure there's some conspiracy to stop me showering in my flat. It started before Christmas, I was walking home on Saturday lunchtime with my Christmas shopping when I spied a fire engine towards the top of my street. I thought to myself: 'ha, ha, some buffoon has burnt their house down just in time for Christmas'. Then as I got closer I realised the fire engine was parked directly outside the block of flats where I live. And the firemen's ladder was reaching up to my front room. 

It turned out there had been water cascading down the walls of the flats below and it was coming from our flat. Our flat was totally dry though. It meant the plumbers coming in and we had no hot water for a while. I went to my parents' house a day earlier for Crimbo.

 

Then last week someone came round to fit new tiles in the bathroom, which meant the shower was out of action for another couple of days. Then Monday, I get home from work to find the Gas man knocking on the door to say there's been a gas leak in the building and they've turned off the gas; which means no hot water. 

I've been showering at work at the end of the day. So if you see me on the 268 bus on my way home, wearing a dressing gown, my hair wet and a towel draped round my shoulders, you'll know why.