Toasty, Not Roasty or Frosty, Finally.

Threatened with instant replacement, my boiler appears to be back from the dead. For the first time in forever, I passed a night without having to rip off sweat-soaked pyjamas and then scramble desperately for them two hours later when the ridiculous, neurotic thermostat thing suddenly decides its had enough of warming my backside.

Shows what you can achieve when you stand in front of an inanimate object and declare to 'him', solemnly and without the slightest hint of anger, that tomorrow, with God as your witness, you will call the boiler people, and they will come and take him away, and he shouldn't come crying to you when he finds himself crumpled in a trash heap with other skanky-ho boilers, on his way to becoming scrap metal!!