Wrinkly

This is what I’m going to look like after the weekend. I’m going to fill the bath with blistering water, lower myself slowly, monkey-like (oo oo ee ee aa aa), and luxuriate endlessly, pinkly, warmly. My toes will be nimbly prehensile, turning the tap for countless hot top-ups, my body reveling in steamy bliss as I marvel at the luxury of having it again: hot water. On tap.

It’s been seven days. A week of icy showers; boiling the kettle to wash up; freezing showers; messages left with the plumber; glacial showers; waiting in the apartment; calling the landlord… and really, really cold showers.

It’s not normal to have blue hands for a whole week.

And that’s why I am going to have the longest bath in history, and emerge looking like a Giant French Prune.

Delicious.