Happy new year.
Upstairs, the boiler suddenly starts making a horrendously loud, relentlessly intense clattering. Like it’ll explode in seconds. Christopher runs upstairs. Pushes some buttons, it gets louder. Switches it off. Despite having only bled the radiators in the last two days, young Chris is convinced the boiler fan has bust. Nothing else could make that noise.
Looks at instructions and warranty. Boiler is only 2 years old but just out of guarantee, apparently. Chris shitting it. Cold night, no shower, two hot water bottles.
In the morning, Chris phones the man who installed it. No longer there – doesn’t exist anymore.
Phones Glowzone, who give a rough quote over phone that comes to something over £400, if the fan is broken. Apparently parts for Worcester Bosch Greenstar are pricey because it’s “so new”. Chris shitting it some more. Glowzone advert says “no callout charge” but they have a hefty “diagnosis fee” (huh?) which is then refunded off the work.
Chris then phones Our Man In Brighton, Tim from Pioneer (fantastic, reliable, etc. etc. – they’ve done everything from our whole bathroom – pissing all over a B&Q botch job that we escaped just in time – to replacing our kitchen ceiling).
Tim sends round Russell just 20 minutes later (I kid you not). Russell points out that the pressure gauge is on zero. “Did you just bleed the radiators?” he asks.
Young Chris can barely type this bit. Adopts a slight working-class drawl to minimise cringing middle classness. Result: sounds like Jamie Oliver.
“Well you have to bring the water pressure back up obviously, otherwise the boiler is a kettle with no water in.”
“That’s why the gauge here, right on the front, was down at zero.”
“Oh yeah. God. Sorry.”
“‘S’alright, I earn £100 an hour.”
Well… some twats dialed 999 when they got the flu bug.