We were awoken early (and after a very poor sleep!) by Sport Boy shivering and complaining there was no hot water and he was freezing. One of the few drawbacks of life in this particular part of Busselton is not being on mains gas and having to renew gas bottles every couple of weeks in winter, less often in summer. Mrs Holt Press bravely crawled out of bed, where her place was taken by chilly Sport Boy with the electric blanket cranked up to thaw him out, and mumbling something about gas bottles and pilot lights, staggered off to attend to the hot water service. Before all you readers become indignant just remember that I held the fort and attended to family duties all weekend while Mrs HP was swanning around Northam with her friends!
She returned with a grimace saying she couldn't get it lit and was waiting the mandatory 5 minutes between attempts as stipulated by the instructions on the HWS.
Attempts 2 and 3 also failed and the minutes were ticking by.
After the 4th failed effort I knew there was no other choice, we were going to have to call a plumber!
Rather than blow our meagre hard-earned cash on a tradesman I decided to give it a go myself.
Half an hour later, most of it spent on my hands and knees peering hopefully into the underbelly of the HWS, we were no closer to having hot water. I had actually managed to establish one feeble pilot light on about my 4th try only to accidentally extinguish it with my sigh of relief!!
I checked the gas bottle, tried different settings, even the ones the instructions warned me not to, tried poking a burning piece of paper in to the general area required, grunted groaned and prayed. On my second check of the gas bottle (we have 2, when one is empty we switch to a full one and order a replacement, Mrs HP is very diligent in this particular matter) I discovered that although it was quite stiff the tap hadn't been fully opened. Perhaps that was the problem? I doubted it but was willing to try anything by then.
Lo and behold, four flicks of the ignition switch later we had a pilot light! Sadly, it went out before the gas kicked in but it was the most encouraging sign in the last hour and I persevered. Sure enough after a couple more tries the system was alight and the Holt Press hot water supply was being replenished. The delay and subsequent waiting time until the water was hot enough for a shower meant I was late for work. I considered going without a shower until I looked in the mirror and saw that my hair had suffered some sort of epileptic seizure during the night.
Lateness was preferable to the ridicule such a bad hair day would have prompted.
"There's no problem in eating red meat. Now, eating blue/green meat, that's a problem"