Carry on Laughing.

Oh, but I wish I’d sent my newsletter out later today. This post would have been included. I’ll add it to next week’s instead.

I’m nearly peeing my pants…

I was having a small private celebration. My house is a renovation and, since funds are limited, it’s been happening gradually over the last four years or so.

And for three of those years, hot water has been problematic. ‘Boiler’ was a bit of an antique and a bit of a Diva.  Some days she would condescend to supply a little hot water, but most of the time, she’d go into a sulk if too much was asked of her.

I’d run a couple of inches int the bath then the temperature would plummet, and I’d top up from the kettle, my soup pan on the hob, and whatever else would give me half a chance at a bit of a warm wallow.

In Summer, of course, it doesn’t matter. I’m in and out of the pool like an otter. But in Winter, here up in the mountains, it’s different. It’s cold, there is no central heating and a hot bath is one of my greatly beloved, and missed luxuries.

So, about a week ago, the moment finally came and Boiler refused, point blank, to deliver any more hot water. She threw her dummy out of the pram and went into a terminal decline.

RIP Boiler.

I’ve been resisting this moment because, about a year ago, my sister in the UK had to replace her water boiler and it cost her over £1,500. My mother had the same problem six months later, and hers cost her over £2,500.

So, I was expecting the quote from our village fontenero to knock out my funds for the next couple of months. Since I also have una gatita to spay, un gatito to neuter, the accountant to pay and an uncertain demand from the tax authorities, I would have preferred to avoid it.

And if push came to shove, I’d have soldiered on – Spring isn’t that far away after all.

But then, my sister is coming to visit next week. And you can’t present a guest with only cold water can you?

So, bit between the teeth I asked for a quote from the plumber…

“Trescientos setenta euros…”

What?

‘Por favor habla más despacio’ – Please speak more slowly….

“Trescientos setenta euros…” Three hundred and seventy euros….

It’s a no brainer.

So, this morning, the plumber arrives and two hours later I have a new boiler. She lacks the personality of Boiler, but on the other hand, she delivers hot water at the flick of a faucet, so I’m prepared to forgive her.

I also have a ten-inch tube of pine needles and hair from where mice had been nesting in the exhaust from Boiler…

Who cares…?

So, setting the water running to fill the bath, I wander down the garden to pick a dozen lemons from the Gin-n-Tonic trees, pour myself a celebratory G & T, then call my Mum on Facebook Messenger video link to have a quick gossip while the bath fills.

So, we’re chatting. Who did this? Who said that?

And my step-father interrupts. Mum swings her iPad to show half her face plus ‘Dad’.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He’s lovely. He and my Mum have been together twenty years and it works for them.

But….

And it’s a big But….

He’s elderly, conservative (small ‘c’), not worldly and he’s Catholic. And when I say Catholic, I mean ‘educated by nuns’ Catholic.

He says, “Hey, I wanted to ask you something. There’s this bloke on Facebook. He says he’s a friend of yours and he’s invited me to join this Secret Group…”

Mmmm…

“Oh, yes?”

“He says he knows you and I’m invited to this secret group he runs.”

“Okay…”

Now, I sure you realise that ‘Simone’ is a pen-name. Let’s say my ‘real life name’ is ‘Katie’.

“Yes, Facebook says he’s a ‘Friend’ of Katie and he’s invited me to this Secret FB Group, ‘LGBT Friends’”

*Cough out mouthful of gin ‘n tonic*….

“Um, Dad, please tell me you haven’t accepted.”

“No. I wanted to ask you what it means?”

“It means you’re invited to a Facebook Group that no-one who isn’t a member of can see into, and they can’t see that you’re a member either.”

“You think I should accept?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be your kind of thing.”

“Why not? It says he’s a member of all these animal rescue groups.”

“Okay, so he’s kind to animals, but don’t join his group.”

“Why not?”

“Because LGBT stands for ‘Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transexual.”

*Mum spits out cups of tea – doubles over laughing*

“Y’what?”

I repeat, “LGBT stands for ‘Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transexual.”

“So, why’s he asking me?”

“Just because he likes animals doesn’t mean he sees everything else the way you do….”

*Mum angles iPad so Dad not in shot. P*****g herself*

“So, you don’t think I should join then?”

“I don’t think so, no. I think you would regret it….”

*Knock off connection*

*Crease over laughing*

*Pour another, bigger, G ‘n T*