You're a man of the cloth. Your sister, well she's down on her luck. She's living in a pokey flat. You know the sort, provided by a slum landlord.
There's a shared front door, then her own front door inside the lobby. A lock that only works if you jiggle the key in a certain way.
When she opens the door, often she's hit by a blast of slightly warm, damp air with a background smell of... what is that? Mould? Gone off milk?
Inwardly she sighs as she walks through her door. Every time.
In her living room, her net curtains are stuck to the window by the condensation on the inside. She checks the de-humidfying crystals she has on the window sill and realises she has to empty the water out again.
The heating is on, but it feels damp and stuffy. She coughs. She coughs, she coughs some more.
She shuffles into the bathroom and catches sight of herself in the mirror. She doesn't look healthy and this cough just won't shift. High temperature and sweats too.
The black spot mould she sees out of the corner of her eye in the bathroom just depresses her. She needs coffee and she needs it now.
The condensation in the kitchen is bad, when she cooks even the walls get wet. She ponders that now as she boils the kettle and steam begins to fill the room. Another cough shakes her body.
She knows her health isn't going to improve while she lives here.
Sighing, she knows what she has to do. Her brother, the vicar. He's always said he'll help if she needs it.
Pulling her phone out of the bag, she makes the call.
Three days later she's in bed in the spare room of her brother's house. Warm, comfortable, cosy.
There's no mould in his house, no stuffiness and she's begun to feel better.
In a couple of days, at lunchtime she asks him about the house. Why does it feel so nice, comfortable?
He explains, he had the heating changed. He was fed up with heating that was difficult to control. He was fed up with the thick head he got when the heating was on and he was fed up with black spot mould in the bathroom.
Infrared heating. That was his answer, that was what he'd upgraded to. It was controllable, so controllable. In fact what he told her shocked her.
Each room had its own control system, it switched on when it was needed and off if it wasn't. Yes, he could programme it and he had.
The bit that shocked her most? If the room wasn't being used when the heating was programmed to be on, it would switch itself off! Her brother reckoned that saved him 25% on its own.
But the heating, the feel of the heating. It felt so good to her. Like standing in the sun on a winter's day. And it saved money too!
She really couldn't face going back home again.
A week passed, then another and another.
Yes, she felt better, comfortable and happy. To be honest she didn't want to leave. She was dreading the conversation with her brother she knew was coming.