unplumbed depths
A while ago, a crack appeared around the plug hole in the base tray of our shower cubicle, and it's since been joined by an ever growing (and lengthening) band of straighter cracks along the tray's raised, 'ribbed' bits.
Last week Pulpette informed the landlord, who later rang to tell us that he'd get in touch w/ the insurance people (I answered the phone). He rang again to tell us he'd informed the insurance people (I answered the phone). He rang again to tell us that someone from the insurance people would be around to check it out (I answered the phone).
The insurance chappie came around, measured up in the bathroom, and made lots of noises along the lines of "Ooohh, that'll have to come out... and he'll have to take off the radiator to get in there... hmmm, now that's a funny size..." Goth being at work, and Pulpette's Sherman shift that day happening to coincide w/ the timing of the visit, it was me who had to stay home to welcome him in, give him as much relevant information as possible, generally oversee his assessment of the job to be done, and (on the instruction of the landlord) generally try to steer him away from any awkward questions about whether the house was a rented or an owned property, why Miss Policy-Holder's contact phone number was 'a London one', why his over-the-phone dealings had been w/ the Miss Policy-Holder's father rather than she herself, where Miss Policy-Holder was in all this... Ngggrrrhhh. Insurance bloke told me what the outlook was, and asked if I could give him a Cardiff-based contact number, for easier liaison between parties as to appropriate times for plumbers to make it over.
A couple of hours later, the landlord rang to check the insurance bloke had been around (I answered the phone). Half an hour or so later, the landlord rang to tell us that he'd heard from the insurance people, who'd told him what the outlook was, and let him know that I'd given them a Cardiff-based contact number, for easier liaison between parties as to appropriate times for plumbers to make it over (I answered the phone).
A letter confirming details various arrived in the post from the insurance lot, but otherwise, there was nowt doing for another few days.
Last night, the landlord rang (I answered the phone). He told me that the insurance people had rung him to say that they'd left a message on our answering machine telling us that a plumber would be available to come around to sort out the shower tray at midday Thursday (ie, today), and wondered if we'd got back to the insurance people to tell them whether or not that would be okay by us. I told the landlord that the insurance folks may have left a message, but our answering machine doesn't seem to know anything about it! Nevertheless, midday Thursday should be fine by us. Landlord kindly said that he'd get back to the insurance types on our behalf, and let them know.
Turned out that Pulpette was scheduled in for a 1-7pm shift at the theatre today, so I said I'd make sure I'd be around the house after she'd gone off to work, to oversee all things plumby. Consequently, I had to leave the house at half nine this morning, for a stressful, hurried dash around town in search of Great Mother's Day Gift Ideas (other things, too, but those being the most important; Mum will be making a flying visit to Cardiff on Saturday, so in lieu of being able to see her on Mothering Sunday itself, I wanted to be able to at least pass Motherly Things onto her in person, even if she does decide to wait the week out before opening them). Got back to the house - as yet still plumbless - waved Pulpette off to work, cleared all the washing paraphernalia, colourful foam 'literacy fun on the tiles' letters, &c. out of the shower cubicle (since no one else had thought to do so) and settled back to await the grand arrival of the plumber.
Time passed. I know that tradesmen's understanding of concepts like 'morning' and 'midday' don't always resemble those of us mere mortals, but by 2pm I was beginning to get a bit narked. I was even less thrilled when a knock at the door turned out to have come from the insurance bloke, here to drop off our new shower tray as a favour to the plumber, who should have been here by now, shouldn't he? An insurance bloke ---> plumber phonecall soon revealed that the latter's morning bathroom job over in Grangetown was taking longer than expected, and he might not be able to get to us till around half three. Right. Okay. Having waited in thus far, I could wait in a while longer.
Off went the insurance bloke, who left me with a heavy ceramic shower tray and the plumber's mobile number, and quite a chill after all that standing around at the front door during phone calls and lengthy explanations.
Not long before 3pm, there was a phone call from who else but the plumber (I answered the phone. Fairly obviously, by this point). Again I heard the whole spiel about the job in Grangetown and its overrunning, and how that meant he hadn't been able to get here at the time arranged (no shit!), and so on and so forth and scooby dooby do, before more going over of things that had already been arranged and confirmed somewhere between me, landlord, and insurance wallah, and finally some discussion of when else would be okay for Mr Plumber to come over and tackle the shower. Couldn't help thinking that his loquacity was wasting valuable Grangetown bathroom installation time, but my efforts to get him to the point were thwarted several times ere he promised that he'd definitely be over at some time around 4pm to at least make a start on the job, before coming back to finish it tomorrow.
You may not be too surprised to hear that there's been neither sight nor sound of el plumbo around these parts since.
n.b. - apologies to anyone who actually read through all this whingingness
Last week Pulpette informed the landlord, who later rang to tell us that he'd get in touch w/ the insurance people (I answered the phone). He rang again to tell us he'd informed the insurance people (I answered the phone). He rang again to tell us that someone from the insurance people would be around to check it out (I answered the phone).
The insurance chappie came around, measured up in the bathroom, and made lots of noises along the lines of "Ooohh, that'll have to come out... and he'll have to take off the radiator to get in there... hmmm, now that's a funny size..." Goth being at work, and Pulpette's Sherman shift that day happening to coincide w/ the timing of the visit, it was me who had to stay home to welcome him in, give him as much relevant information as possible, generally oversee his assessment of the job to be done, and (on the instruction of the landlord) generally try to steer him away from any awkward questions about whether the house was a rented or an owned property, why Miss Policy-Holder's contact phone number was 'a London one', why his over-the-phone dealings had been w/ the Miss Policy-Holder's father rather than she herself, where Miss Policy-Holder was in all this... Ngggrrrhhh. Insurance bloke told me what the outlook was, and asked if I could give him a Cardiff-based contact number, for easier liaison between parties as to appropriate times for plumbers to make it over.
A couple of hours later, the landlord rang to check the insurance bloke had been around (I answered the phone). Half an hour or so later, the landlord rang to tell us that he'd heard from the insurance people, who'd told him what the outlook was, and let him know that I'd given them a Cardiff-based contact number, for easier liaison between parties as to appropriate times for plumbers to make it over (I answered the phone).
A letter confirming details various arrived in the post from the insurance lot, but otherwise, there was nowt doing for another few days.
Last night, the landlord rang (I answered the phone). He told me that the insurance people had rung him to say that they'd left a message on our answering machine telling us that a plumber would be available to come around to sort out the shower tray at midday Thursday (ie, today), and wondered if we'd got back to the insurance people to tell them whether or not that would be okay by us. I told the landlord that the insurance folks may have left a message, but our answering machine doesn't seem to know anything about it! Nevertheless, midday Thursday should be fine by us. Landlord kindly said that he'd get back to the insurance types on our behalf, and let them know.
Turned out that Pulpette was scheduled in for a 1-7pm shift at the theatre today, so I said I'd make sure I'd be around the house after she'd gone off to work, to oversee all things plumby. Consequently, I had to leave the house at half nine this morning, for a stressful, hurried dash around town in search of Great Mother's Day Gift Ideas (other things, too, but those being the most important; Mum will be making a flying visit to Cardiff on Saturday, so in lieu of being able to see her on Mothering Sunday itself, I wanted to be able to at least pass Motherly Things onto her in person, even if she does decide to wait the week out before opening them). Got back to the house - as yet still plumbless - waved Pulpette off to work, cleared all the washing paraphernalia, colourful foam 'literacy fun on the tiles' letters, &c. out of the shower cubicle (since no one else had thought to do so) and settled back to await the grand arrival of the plumber.
Time passed. I know that tradesmen's understanding of concepts like 'morning' and 'midday' don't always resemble those of us mere mortals, but by 2pm I was beginning to get a bit narked. I was even less thrilled when a knock at the door turned out to have come from the insurance bloke, here to drop off our new shower tray as a favour to the plumber, who should have been here by now, shouldn't he? An insurance bloke ---> plumber phonecall soon revealed that the latter's morning bathroom job over in Grangetown was taking longer than expected, and he might not be able to get to us till around half three. Right. Okay. Having waited in thus far, I could wait in a while longer.
Off went the insurance bloke, who left me with a heavy ceramic shower tray and the plumber's mobile number, and quite a chill after all that standing around at the front door during phone calls and lengthy explanations.
Not long before 3pm, there was a phone call from who else but the plumber (I answered the phone. Fairly obviously, by this point). Again I heard the whole spiel about the job in Grangetown and its overrunning, and how that meant he hadn't been able to get here at the time arranged (no shit!), and so on and so forth and scooby dooby do, before more going over of things that had already been arranged and confirmed somewhere between me, landlord, and insurance wallah, and finally some discussion of when else would be okay for Mr Plumber to come over and tackle the shower. Couldn't help thinking that his loquacity was wasting valuable Grangetown bathroom installation time, but my efforts to get him to the point were thwarted several times ere he promised that he'd definitely be over at some time around 4pm to at least make a start on the job, before coming back to finish it tomorrow.
You may not be too surprised to hear that there's been neither sight nor sound of el plumbo around these parts since.
n.b. - apologies to anyone who actually read through all this whingingness