White Knuckles

Or, I am really starting to get quite angry.

This blog comes to you from the not-so-frozen north. Yes, it's that time again, and I've headed up to Coventry to begin term one of my second year. After a summer of high teas and general loafing about in a room full of books and spare computer parts (all while impeccably dressed of course, as this previous blog will testify. However, after the initial excitement at seeing my uni friends had worn off, it quickly became clear that something was very wrong with my house. Several things, in fact.

While Heather had been explaining to me for a while of the problems she was encountering in settling in, they hadn't really hit home. When I turned up at the house for her surprise birthday party (she was completely clueless by the way; the look of shock on her face was priceless) I saw for myself that where there was once a boiler, was in fact, a hole in the wall. Six inches wide, straight through to the yard outside. Okay, I think to myself. No problem. One bundle of empty Sainsbury's carrier bags, and hey presto, instant insulation. We have a power shower, and it's not that cold. We'll cope.

Then there was the hob. It's a gas hob, which was a major plus for me; I'd cooked with electric hobs for the past year and found it a real pain. However, ignoring the meagre gas flow from the hobs themselves, there's the fact that they won't stay lit. In fact, the only way to make them work is to balance the knife block on the control knob for twenty minutes to keep the igniter running. Okay, I think to myself, No problem. We can use the oven, and the hob just about works. Anyway, theman who's coming to do the boiler will fix the hob as well, look, there's the spare in the kitchen already. We'll cope.

Two weeks of promises from the plumber and the landlord (who seems like a nice guy, by the way, and who shelled out £1400 for a new boiler on the advice of the plumber) and the house still has no hot water or heating. We've been boiling kettles every time we wash up or do any cleaning. Incidentally, we've had to buy a decent kettle too.

There is a pile of spare parts and rubbish four feet high and ten feet long against one wall in the yard. In this pile is an old avocado bath and the (old but previously working) boiler. I have four layers on my bed (including a winter duvet) and I'm getting sick of drunken idiots staggering home past my bedroom window at three in the bloody morning. In short, Coventry, you FAIL at life.

Hopefully my next blog will be warmer in tone and in temperature.

That is all.