A bright spark

My boss was working at home this morning; I was working in work. She emailed me to ask me to go downstairs and turn off the heating. Let me explain: our central heating controls have gone kaput so, at the moment, we've got little manual timers that have to be set and reset every day.

I went downstairs. the heating wasn't on. I went back up and emailed my boss to tell her. 'Ah but,' she emailed back, 'I meant that you were to switch off the timer.'

Back downstairs I go and discover that, according to the timer, the heating should be on now. Back upstairs and I phone my boss this time. This is rather serious as, although it's half-term and we don't have the usual classes, we do have a big health screening event tomorrow.

A number of phone calls follow with different suggestions being put forward for solving the problem. Each one involves me running up and down stairs. On about the fourth trip I work out why the heating isn't coming on as it should. (We're no longer interested in turning the heating off being more concerned to find a way to make it come on.)

I phone my boss. 'I think the reason the timer and the heating weren't working might be because, um, I didn't notice before, but the plug is switched off at the socket.'

At this point, Chris, who is working at the next desk, collapses snorting, with his head in his hands. He tries to tell me he was reading a funny email. Yeah, right.

* * * * * * * * *

On an electrical theme, our house is preparing to turn itself into a haunted house for Halloween: the lights in the hall keep going on and off.

I point this out to Husband. He says that it's just a dodgy connection. He's right. I only have to hit the lightbulb with a tea-towel as I pass and it comes on.