The predicted domestic apocalypse has befallen us.
The shower in the en suite is leaking. It has been on the way out for a while. We have repaired various cracks and crevices with wholly unsuitable sealants; silica, jam, ear wax, the blood of small children sacrificed under a virgin moon etc.
To no avail.
It fails regularly, and water starts pooling in places you really don’t want water to pool.
Yesterday the leak we knew about sprang a secondary leak discovered when Tallulah went into the panic room to get her sleeping bag (no it is not a fully kitted out panic room. It is just a weird tiny room with an enormous foot thick metal door – why? We do not know. We use it as a gigantic cupboard under the stairs space. Mostly it is filled with wellingtons, sleeping bags and random light shades) and came out shrieking that the sky was falling in.
Really the shower floor needs totally retiling. This is beyond our feeble DIY skill set and we require a proper plumber/tiler person to do this. We have called someone today. They are very busy, they may get back to us, today/tomorrow, sometime never.
There is always something with houses isn’t there? In my vast experience of living in all kinds of houses over the years, from flats in old servant’s quarters to new build estate houses, to mansions of doom, and everything in between, you can never entirely give up going to Home Base. Pipes burst, cookers explode, boilers die, plaster falls off, cellars fill up with water, attics fill up with birds nests. It’s a never ending litany of little jobs on hand.
I dream of living in a house where nothing needs doing that Molly Maids can’t fix. This is, of course, a fantasy. Re-enacting Fifty Shades of Grey would be more realistic. Firstly because Molly Maids is exorbitantly expensive, and secondly because I bet even Kevin McCloud has days where the airing cupboard door comes off in his hand thirty seconds before he’s due to wring his hands over someone’s submerged footings.
Luckily for us we have two gigantic baths with which to wash away the grime of the day whilst waiting for the shower to be fixed.
I am running a book on what part of the house will disintegrate once the bathroom situation has been sorted out.
Tortoise chewing through carpet into ceiling joists is odds on favourite at the moment.