Thursday, 13 September 2007

If the ceiling's going to fall on my head...

then cancer won't be a problem.

That's how I rationalised my second cigarette of the evening while I soothed my nerves after sharing a kitchen with a falling chunk of plaster and a lot of water.Turns out the bath had been leaking since we got here and finally the ceiling gave up trying to hold it in and gave way. I was in the kitchen at the time. Luckily it's a big kitchen and I was about as far away from the disaster as it's possible to be, so apart from shock and a lot of swearing, I was fine.

There then followed a lot of phone calls to landladies and plumbers and an awful lot of mopping, and after a while the ceiling lost another chunk of itself. There's now a rectangular hole in the ceiling, about four feet by two feet, surrounded by a big damp patch and with bits hanging down. Lovely.

Luckily no one was hurt and not much was damaged. The DS is looking a bit damp, though. Jon is consoling himself with a trip to KFC and I bought some beers.

And somehow the baby slept through the whole thing.

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