moving

Moved into a new house on a quiet estate, in a quiet town. It's some
kind of heaven. Victoria Road was convenient for the Rhyl Town
centre

its true. But it was more convenient for the string of deadbeats and

wasters on the way to and from the corner shop to throw used papers

crisp packets and on one memorable occasion a full open yoghurt into
our

front yard. Perhaps he wanted strawberry but all they had was
raspberry.

This is to say nothing of the car vandalism, noise from the club/pub

over the road and angry men, in angry cars with angry exhausts. Our

neighbour went from being a sweet old lady who we never heard a peep

from to an aging tom with an abusive boyfriend to a single mother
whose

idea of housework would have made Stig of the dump blush. Oh and a

tendency to drag unsuspecting men back to her lair and play 'I want it

that way' By the Backstreet Boys on loop whilst ritually slaughtering
a

pig. At least from the noises coming through the wall that's what it

sounded like.

On the one occasion , 3AM on a Tuesday morning, I went around to ask
her

to turn it down she answered the door in jeans and a bra. That was

enough to scare me off. I've lived as a student, watched open heart

surgery in an operating room and nothing has turned my stomach as much

as that cheap denim and poor quality cotton framing a deeply unlovely

person. Luckily she showed the same care and consideration to her

neighbours as she did her rent check and so was forcibly evicted by
the

police. And on that day we had a party.

The new house has had problems too although up to now the biggest
thing

has been that the orange food waste bin has decided to roam the world

freed of its earthly burden. Or in English its disappeared. The
Council

are sending another one around.

However something has happened to spoil this elysian paradise. The

central heating packed in yesterday and I have zero experience of an

actual proper central heating system. My Mums house had the novelty of
a

warm air system where as far as I could see a team of asthmatic
badgers

would wheeze tepid air around the flues. It was kind of a homeopathic

heating system, air that had once been warm was diluted and passed

around a space that was too large and it had all the warming ability
of

clustering around a picture of a fire clipped from a magazine.

I poked the clock a few times, relit the pilot light on the boiler and

then, aware that my manly credentials were taking a downwards
direction

declared it 'broken' and 'We should get a man in.'

There are things I can do and things I can't and frankly if it doesn't

have a GUI then I'm screwed.