25 Feb

Anyone else harbour occasional secret fantasies about living in a fully serviced, lavishly furnished, modernist city-centre apartment with all amenities to hand? I know it’s not quite the place to admit to it, but if I didn’t harbour any previously, I certainly do after today. After the usual bribery and force required to prise the children away form the TV and out of their pyjamas, we planned to tackle the garden, which is a bit of an eyesore at the moment. (I have to admit that my husband had to use bribery and force to prise me away from the Sunday papers). Just before lunchtime there was a power cut, which is not an infrequent event in this village, electricity still being regarded as a bit new-fangled and awe-inspiring. It came back on early afternoon, by which time we were being a terribly industrious family unit in the garden. At least my husband was – the children were trying to be helpful, which is always a recipe for disaster, and I was clearing up the mess (it was ever thus). Anyway, I suggested to my husband that a particular clematis should be moved to nearer the front door, and he applied himself vigorously to digging. A little time later, really cold and desperate for a cup of tea, we came indoors. The subsequent conversation went something like this:

Me: It’s freezing in here. Can you put the heating on” (Going to stand by the Aga).
Him: “The heating won’t come on”
Me: “The Aga’s freezing …”
Both of us simultaneously: “Oh Sh*t”

No, we hadn’t run out of oil. My husband, in another of his DIY special efforts which he seems to save up, by means of a sort of calamitous telepathy, for when I can least cope with them, had sliced through the oil line when digging a hole for the clematis. As soon as we realised what had happened we rushed out to look and check the oil tank. Naturally, we’d realised just in time to watch the last of the oil (tank previously half-full) trickle out of the cut pipe.

We came back into the house in a kind of stunned silence. I went to make the much needed cup of tea, while my husband when to phone the brilliant people who always see to the Aga. Then all the lights went out again.

As I write, the electricity is back on (obviously, or I wouldn’t be on the computer) but the lights are flickering ominously. We’ve lit a fire, and I admit it’s quite mild, but the house loses so much heat without the Aga. The Aga people are coming out in the morning, and there is probably just about enough oil left in the tank to see us through until we can get another delivery (which we can really afford at the moment, ha ha), and husband is off to Frankfurt for the week first thing. I suspect we will be dining by candlelight tonight, which is something we try to do quite often as a family and I really enjoy, but somehow not when it’ll be sandwiches again and the choice has been taken away from me.