We have come to a reluctant conclusion over the years, that while this land of liberty contains a number of actual plumbers, their ranks are augmented by a variety of performance artists engaged in some species of situationist production the details of which will be unveiled to us in due course. We suspect the infant Craig to be one of them. He was supposed to come back and deal with the leak on Monday, but didn’t because he couldnae get in (we were at work). And that was very odd, you see, because on Friday he’d gone off with a key to one of the doors on the understanding that he would let himself in. A further layer of confusion and misdirection lies with his immediate colleagues. I had dealings with one of them last Tuesday, whom I knew to be son to the founder of the firm, and he left his coat in the dining room. I therefore rang head office when I noticed it, and the secretary, possibly his mother, said ‘that Andrew, he’s aye leavin’ his stuff aboot’. He turned up later to collect it. The Professor had also had dealings with the son of the firm on a previous occasion, and when I mentioned this to him in passing, he said, ‘but I thought his name was Davie’. Light was shed on this conundrum in the course of this morning;s entertainment, when I was off in Aberdeen lecturing on Vikings and the Prof was fielding Craig and Andrew/Davie. The answer turned out to be near-identical twin plumbers, God help us. So now we have no idea what we have said to whom. Moreover, light was also shed on why we’d come back on Friday to find the central heating still not working. Craig had forgotten to turn on the valve. So we have some heating, and one of the radiators in my room is now functioning. Why the other isn’t remains a mystery.