Today started with Seamus visiting the agency first thing to voice our house concerns. Perhaps concerns is too mild a word. Complaints is better and stating that I had had enough. While he was out I boiled the kettle, took it to the shower and mixed hot and cold to wash my hair and the rest. It wasn't pleasant in the freezing cold. Shortly after, the plumber, Godoy, a good guy, who is an electrician or vice versa arrived.
His partner fixed the electricity. That breakdown caused by an outside light being almost blown off the side off the house in a storm and letting water in. One problem solved.
It wasn't looking so good down at the furnace, where water and oil were on the floor, a filter was clogged, something else and the pump was broken. Imagine all that from just turning off the heating while we were away. This furnace, apparently loved by the Russians, has broken down several times. It is the Trabant of furnaces. If I was the owner of this four-year-old house I would be tired of paying for the lampista's mortgage.
Sixto, the painter, came right over and re-patched the wall, where the first electrician butchered it. He is a lovely man Sixto. We can have conversations helped by the computer nearby. He just translates this and that and asks Seamus to bring up google so we can check things out. He showed us pictures of his daughters on his phone, some with Barcelona football star Lionel Messi. But perhaps strangest of all were the pictures of Andres Iniesta as a young altar boy. If you don't know who these people are you are not a football, aka soccer, fan.
Then the lampista came back with all the necessary parts and after a few more hours we have heat and hot water. Of course we have now discovered that somehow we have used eight hundred litres of oil in three months rather than eleven months. But not to worry, we will get a delivery tomorrow.
This leaves only the question of the leaks, especially in the garage. Apparently Salvat the builder was not taking calls today, being Monday. The saga continues.