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Friday, 7 February 2014

Singing in the Rain



Wet,wet,wet. The theme for this posting. 


Wet to the power of three, wet cubed. 


First, the weather. Wet. Extremely so. 

The Atlantic. That great expanse of blue. That mighty ocean,  provider and protector of this sceptred isle, now marshals convoys of grey  battle cruisers to pummel our ancient westerly, watery, coastline.

The battle ranks of Hitler's malevolent hosts which rained down fire on our uplifted faces in times past,are as nothing compared to Poseidon's watery storm troopers.


Still they come, accompanied by baleful echoes of that gigantic Jovian storm, herded by  frightful war horses  that crest the tumultuous waters breaching Albion's hapless walls and harbours.


There is no end in sight, no blessed relief from the pounding, the crumbling and the crashing down. 

Each new watery dawn heralds an escalation of our predicament. Resounding rejoinders, repeating the hateful deluge. Echoing the Antediluvian flood that cleansed our race.


Then there's the roof and me. Wet squared.


We had a leak. This guy - recommended - came round. Did the work he said was required. Quite a bit of work £600 worth. The roof still leaked. He came back, said it was my neighbour's roof, said he's patched it up.


A new leak. Texted him twice, left a message on his phone, e-mailed. He finally deemed to visit. Checked the roof he said. Nothing leaking on my roof, must be the neighbour's. Water running along his ridge and down my wall.


By now I suspected I'd been had. The work he did wasn't necessary, blaming the neighbour was a device. I called him again. Still no leak must be my neighbour's roof.

Called another roofer. He came this morning. Traced where the leak was, showed me, and fixed it in less than five minutes, by replacing one broken tile. For £97! But if it has fixed the leak it's worth it.


Me, wet behind the ears when it comes to anything to do with the house. 


I'll tweet my non recommendation.


Then there's  Lord Smith of Finsbury, Chair of the Environment Agency. Wet, wet, wet. Ironically like a fish out of water.

Let him splash about in the Somerset Levels.

5 comments:

Steve said...

Don't knock it. I've set up a new business offering free outside showers.

Admittedly I've had no takers so far.

Bojo said...

Understand how you feel. Just drying off at present after a golden shower.

Jack the Hat said...

Remind me not to lend me your towel Bojo

Anonymous said...

You seem to be the straightman and Bojo the cheeky sidekick on this site.

Marginalia said...

Dear all, enough of the drip, drip of filth and innuendo.