13 April 2006

A tale of water and dust

One night last week, I decided that The Little One was in dire need of a bath. The bath, however, was blocked, and rather than wait for Mr. Seldom to wield the plunger, I dived in (metaphorically only); kids in the kitchen started screaming "whatever you're doing, stop it!" It was raining in the kitchen, no soft April shower, but real monsoon rains. A plumber was called; he said he'd be in soon; he wasn't; he rang to say his van broke down. Do they not teach them better lies at plumbers' school? Another plumber was called; he came and looked and said "that's a big job; we need to cut the ceiling in the kitchen to reach the problem". Great, I thought. Plumbing and mayhem for Easter; then again in the summer, when we had planned a major facelift for the aging and decrepit bathroom. Decisive we were. The Big Job. The plumber was (miraculously) available, as well as his friends the builder, the electrician and the tiler.

Which leads me to today, the second day in our lives with Luke the Australian builder, Dave his Irish sidekick, and the newly acquired Ed the taciturn carpenter. John and Robbie the plumbers won't be with us until Tuesday, for the grand opening. In the meantime, we wash in the downstairs washand basin, or the sink if we feel brave. The whole house is decorated in a fetching coating of dust, and the smell of new plaster permeates the air.

Today, I gave in, rang my SIL and drove to her house for a shower. I am clean, and happy. My bathroom is neither, but it will be wonderful next week...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Well, try to look on it as a process, or somesuch. Bugger. Don't you just hate plumbing?