Unhappy Birthday

What a couple of days....
Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 35. We had our whole day planned, George was going to nursery and Jon and I would have our first day alone together for fourteen months. We were going to the cinema, then to have lunch, then a relaxing afternoon at home until picking up G.
I should have realised when I cut my thumb right open underneath my nail the day wasn't going to go well, but after lovely cards, a bacon roll and a strong coffee I was quite excited. Silly me. Jon thought he smelled gas from next door and being a good neighbour he reported it to Transco. They arrived promptly and after testing outside came in to check our supply switching off our boiler in the process, only, when he came to switch it back on it was dead. No heat, no hot water, in fact, no birthday. We had to wait for engineers, who when they finally arrived could do nothing, a sorry pair walked through the icing sugar snow and the biting cold to the bear for lunch, a less sorry and very full pair walked back, hominy pie for Jon, gratin for me, with a collection of beautiful salads - tabbouleh, pasta, potato, coleslaw, olives and ciabatta. We blitzed and swapped our cold, damp bedroom around to maximise warmth and stave off the damn spores. Then Jon rushed to buy an oil radiator for it and we just had time to get G. The night was cold but our many blankets, little radiator and numerous candles kept us warm. Today, another engineer, another no, this time, no parts til Monday. Jon got back on the phone. Our insurance company played ball. We have accommodation for the weekend, we go tomorrow.
Next year, I'm moving my birthday to at least March.