The Furlongs have several hot water bottles. I have looked with suspicion at the one I use most because it is ageing and we know what happens in the middle of a winter night when your hottie pops in bed – well I know, because once it happened to me.
So last night, I took a newer hottie bottle out of a cupboard where it is stored – it’s the one I give to guests usually, but I did notice it had seemed to have changed colour. It was late, my mind was full of things other than the simple task of filling a hottie, which – fortunately – I do at the bathroom basin. The water is really HOT. I count slowly, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. And then I know the hottie is perfectly filled.
I counted. But the bottle was not full. I tried again, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.The bottle was not full. I looked inside – no – no water. Scientifical thought would have alerted me that something was amiss. But I did try again – TWICE actually, to my shame. And anyway who has scientific thought at eleven thirty at night?
I stopped my pointless filling and went to bed.