I, on the other hand was unstoppable. Despite the pain that I knew I would inflict on myself, I once more lowered myself into the bilge and began the slow and difficult task of removing the old boiler. It wasn't easy, nor was it fun, but the thought of finishing the day with a warm shower spurred me on.
It got stuck a few times, so I had to dismantle the water pump to get it past, then the engine cooling intakes, then the toilet plumbing, and eventually cajoled the rotten thing all the way to within half a metre of the floor hatch before it was clear to anyone that cared to look, that it was not going to come any further in one piece.
Being the cautious, meticulous and once bitten twice shy sort of person that I am, rather than take an axe to it immediately, I decided to check that all of the parts for the new machine were to hand, lest we were forced to live without water, engine or toilet for a month while waiting for the new one to be commissioned.
I wandered up to the office to pick up the new one, and while looking for some insignificant part, my eye fell on the electrical label: "1200 watt calorifier" it proudly proclaimed, and in the fine print I'm sure I could see a flashing neon sign which said "about 700 watts too big for your generator and electrical system to handle you mug."
I have read in murder mysteries of a certain involuntary scream which gets buried in a muffled gurgle as the knife twists through one vital organ after another, and I can't say for sure if the sound was actually emanating from my own throat or whether I was imagining it gurgling out of Bill as his eyes glazed over and he whispered his last "Ohhh dearrr…"
By the time I found him though, his eyes were already glazed over, He had his new love on his lap, all 500 terrabytes of her, and had already downloaded three episodes of Doctor Who, and didn't seem to hear when I told him we wouldn't have much to do on the morrow.
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