Netball Goal Attack Death Stare.

Last night was very cold and the moon was one sunrise past fat.
Linda wanted to get the extra blankets from the box under the telly so there'd be a reduced risk of waking up to find out we'd become frozen corpses.

There was an accident:

Linda's favourite vase (which qualifies as a "collectable") was broken.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

(No, I'm not suggesting Linda is in any way, shape, or form as unto a camel).

Linda is very cross.

The kind of cross that is evident only in the eyes of an otherwise outwardly calm and still person.

Bit like a coiled spring perhaps?

I imagine the chimney companies representatives sat in their respective homes, watching T.V. or maybe  having a spot of dinner, relaxed, comfortable, and completely unaware that someone with a chainsaw handling certificate was thinking very dark thoughts about them.

Thankfully the drama didn't unfold into a bloodstained crisis 

(again).

Linda spoke quietly to the chimney companies representatives explaining to them that she considered their surveyor to be at fault for not noticing the two chimneys were connected:

I haven't seen the chimney companies representatives for sometime now.

I can hear something that sounds like "FOR GOD"S SAKE HELP US!!!" coming over from Longbrook Park.

Last time I saw Linda she said she was taking a friend out to lunch: