This is another one of those days when, to paraphrase Calvin, my brains are dripping down through my nose [which makes me think that I have never talked here about the purety of Calvin and Hobbes – Peace be with them, and chalk up another one onthe ToDo list]. Simple put, the heating in the building isn’t switched on and I’m sure that if we’re not yet sub-zero, we’re heading there fast. However, as life tends to be, the story is not so simple.

[Quick pause. Please excuse me if I disappear like that for moments. At the same time I’m listening to tracks for a new French label called Herzfeld—or, hrzfld as they sometimes spell it—that they suggested for my other venture, my wonderful French blog called green that I am heavily promoting, so all french speakers/readers please go there, and say that it is wonderful and recommend it to your francophile friends. Fingers crossed, as he says this.]

Last winter, before the heating was switched on the people who represent the residents in this building stuck up a notice asking for all to note down the leaky taps on the radiators, so that they could get a plumber to come in, bleed the system, change all the taps at once, get a bulk price and minimum fuss. We dutifully noted our two. Nothing happened. Except the weather got colder. Finally I drew a cartoon of a penguin in a deckchair enjoying himself in the ambiant temperature, which served to ask when the heating would be coming. I got pleasant remarks saying ‘soon’ scrawled onto the drawing, and then that disappeared, replaced by a notice saying that the plumber couldn’t make it, so the taps would be changed later, and that the furnace would be lit soon.

It was lit.

It should be noted at this point that the furnace knows two temperatures: ‘glacial’, also know as ‘off’, and ‘hell on a warm day’, also know as ‘on’. Neighbours above told us that they had to switch off radiators and open the windows to get a decent [livable] temperature in their flat. We laughed.

In fact, the temperature is so hot that even with all the radiators off, and the hot water just flowing through the supply pipes that run floor to ceiling in most rooms, the flat was still overheated.

And then it stopped. And then it started again. And then it stopped. And then it started again. All winter through we had this strange regime of 3 days off, one week on, or so it seemed. From what we heard, the heater is old [this might explain the thermostat issue…] and needs constant encouragement. Or more likely, a replacement. However, as I imagine that all the flat owners must agree on such an expense, and only half live in, and replacing a boiler is not an expense that can be charged to tenants—it’s a fixture, and as such, it is the landlord’s responsability and expense—nothing happens.

Spring came, the warmth came back. Encouraged by this, the heater decided to stay on. We boiled and opened windows. Oh well, I suppose that all that fresh air is good for us…

Now I bet you have forgotten the taps. Told you so. Any organised person would see that the spring is an ideal time to contact the plumber and get the taps fixed: no-one is pressured by the imminent need to switch the furnace on to prevent glaciation in the building, and in the relatively clement period from March to September, not only are plumbers less likely to be running around fixing broken heaters as they are switched off and thus generally considered ‘less’-urgent, but it gives a full six months for an appointment, allowing for multiple cancellations, false alerts, wandering around the flats looking at the taps and mumbling, and all the other sorts of scientific things that plumbers do.

So… Now, we have not only got a cold spell, we have not only got no heater, but we have also got a poster down below asking us to indicate the number of taps that need repairing because…

Something tells me that the plastic waterbottle drip catchers that I hung under the leaking taps will be in use for another year. And we might just have to invest in an electric heater. Just in case…

Atchooo! Bless me.

*A quote from Calvin, of course. ‘Calvin and Hobbes’ copyright Bill Watterson.