Yesterday we had our housewarming party. A farewell party in reverse. At least half as many people in a house a quarter the size. I hoped to the last moment that the weather would be nice, and we could be in the garden. Of couse it wasn't. More than that, it had suddenly got so cold that the bedsheets felt icy the night before, and I had to wear my thick Norwegian sweater in the morning. Staffan tried every possible button and tap to start the heating, but it didn't work at all. I managed to switch on the fake fireplace in the sitting area, looking forward with horror about another cold night. Staffan went over to our friendly niegbour, but she wasn't at home.
Now, when twenty people get gother in a very small space, it does get warm. Nevertheless, after a couple of drinks, and having listened to many compliments about our lovely home, I ventured to ask whether anyone knew about heaters. It sometimes helps to play a dumb foreigner. Two minutes later the relevant button was found (not at all in the place we had been looking for).
That's what I call housewarming!
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