J and I were woken up in the early hours of yesterday morning to a mini-flood coming from the boiler. The flood was eventually stemmed, thanks largely to J’s valiant efforts, but there was a bit of seepage through the floor to the ceiling of our lounge and we had no hot water for a morning. I’d love to be able to get really deep and selfless at this point and say how blessed we are to even have hot water when there are people in the world who don’t even have running cold water (which I know we are). Yesterday morning, however, I’m ashamed to admit that my primary thoughts revolved around the personal inconvenience caused this incident … except the moments when I was inspired to write a little poem about our ‘night disaster’ with our fridge poetry, which I thought I’d share here. Please excuse the state of some of the pieces – we’ve had the set for quite a while now. And please imagine punctuation – sadly the kit doesn’t come with such niceties.
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