The boiler man: late and smelly.

There was a brief cold snap that started last Sunday - don't know if you remember it. I remember it for two reasons:

1. I had to play football in it. It felt like I was a minor character in the movie Alive.

2. The boiler broke down in our house and it got cold.

"Don't worry Cheryl," I said, with a wink of the eye as my phone rang up Scottish Power, "We've got Noah; they will be out here in a shot. They have to be, he is under six months." Two days later, after the boiler started working again on its own accord, in walks a smelly, creepy plumber, clutching his spanner and tool belt with his sweaty, greasy hands. He was like a shit Mario.

This is a convoluted way of getting round to adding the following picture of Noah, wrapped up as warm as we could make him in the baltic living room...

Dog and bear were doing their bit to keep him warm.