So farewell then...
Central heating systems, that standby of the saloon bar bore, are a mystery to me. I have only once lived in a house equipped with central heating, and rarely used it because the two main rooms also benefited from gas fires. Bentos Towers was constructed during the vogue for warm air heating and the original system was still in situ when we moved in. It never worked properly and during last winter conked out altogether, leaving us dependant for warmth upon an electric room heater. Fortunately the boiler continued to provide hot water. Because there is a potential danger of gaseous emissions, plumbers must now be specially qualified to work on warm air systems. The qualification must be obtained, and annually renewed, at the plumber's expense, but since few such systems remain he has little hope of a return. Accordingly few plumbers bother with warm air systems and it is almost impossible to keep them maintained in working order.
So central heating it had to be. I would not care to re-live the week-long process of installation, which resulted in the hospitalisation of two people and a computer disaster, along with the more routine forms of domestic disruption. The last part of the process, completed yesterday, was the removal of the old boiler, dating from the construction of the house in the early 70s. The new one, about the size of a small television set, can be fitted to a wall at eye level. "We'll leave the old one out the front", said the plumber. "With any luck someone'll nick it, but if not I've got a man who comes around and picks them up for me". Not long afterwards, and shortly after the photograph was taken, an uncouth-looking individual, approaching with the furtive, predatory tread of an hyaena, knocked at the front door. "He said there'd be a bit of copper", complained the man, "somebody must've 'ad it away". Well, I didn't remember any copper over and above that contained within the apparatus, and the boiler had only been standing in the front garden for an hour or so. He dragged it down the path, not apologising, I fastidiously noted, for a number of gouges left in neighbouring brickwork and, with a collaborator, belaboured the boiler into the back of a van, leaving that twirly lagging from the flue-pipe strewn across the public grass verge.
So farewell then...
Central heating systems, that standby of the saloon bar bore, are a mystery to me. I have only once lived in a house equipped with central heating, and rarely used it because the two main rooms also benefited from gas fires. Bentos Towers was constructed during the vogue for warm air heating and the original system was still in situ when we moved in. It never worked properly and during last winter conked out altogether, leaving us dependant for warmth upon an electric room heater. Fortunately the boiler continued to provide hot water. Because there is a potential danger of gaseous emissions, plumbers must now be specially qualified to work on warm air systems. The qualification must be obtained, and annually renewed, at the plumber's expense, but since few such systems remain he has little hope of a return. Accordingly few plumbers bother with warm air systems and it is almost impossible to keep them maintained in working order.
So central heating it had to be. I would not care to re-live the week-long process of installation, which resulted in the hospitalisation of two people and a computer disaster, along with the more routine forms of domestic disruption. The last part of the process, completed yesterday, was the removal of the old boiler, dating from the construction of the house in the early 70s. The new one, about the size of a small television set, can be fitted to a wall at eye level. "We'll leave the old one out the front", said the plumber. "With any luck someone'll nick it, but if not I've got a man who comes around and picks them up for me". Not long afterwards, and shortly after the photograph was taken, an uncouth-looking individual, approaching with the furtive, predatory tread of an hyaena, knocked at the front door. "He said there'd be a bit of copper", complained the man, "somebody must've 'ad it away". Well, I didn't remember any copper over and above that contained within the apparatus, and the boiler had only been standing in the front garden for an hour or so. He dragged it down the path, not apologising, I fastidiously noted, for a number of gouges left in neighbouring brickwork and, with a collaborator, belaboured the boiler into the back of a van, leaving that twirly lagging from the flue-pipe strewn across the public grass verge.