Today we liberated Franc the Van from his sojourn in a wood where he'd been hibernating under a slightly padded waterproof cover. Amazingly the only mould to be seen was on a bit of melamine round the fridge and on the kitchen vent wire filter. Presumably there was enough bacterial matter (dead flies, smidgins of food, etc.) on the wire to make a mould feel it worth a mycelium.
Franc is now to have a habitation check and we're resolved to find out how and where we switch on the central heating when The Man comes. We've both forgotten where the controls are. (I have my suspicions about a small area of switching mechanisms with a nob or two and an LED which I don't recall belonging to any other control.) The Romahome explanatory book is sadly lacking on detail in this regard and the manufacturer's booklet - to which Romahome refers - gives 30-odd pages on installation but no picture whatsoever of the controls!
You're wondering, I know you are, don't deny it, why I've titled this post (missing title). Well, it was while I was cleaning the muck off the kitchen vent in Franc that I got to wondering what handy title I could give to last year. I need a handy title because I keep finding I have to refer to it. That was the year in which I underwent chemo therapy and had two thirds of a lung out. So it could be called my Annus Cannulus* (because of the number of cannulas I had stuck into me). I'd prefer it wasn't my Annus Horribilus because I don't actually see is as negative. It was all positive. 2010 wasn't good because in that year I got the diagnosis, but in 2011 they appeared to have cured me. So we reckon (I've got hubby in on this now and we have two Latin dictionaries annd the internet to play with) that 2001 was an Annus Bonum. Latin scholars will no doubt put me right on this if my declention* is wrong.
NB. I was not privileged to "do" Latin, being merely a Beta-grade pupil until my fourth year of grammar school, at which point They discovered I did have some semblance of a brain.