Flossing, Flooding and what the bloody F*%king hell?!?!
Today was... well actually it still is....
Yes dear friends, this excited and exciteable reporter can inform you that our hero Wytchcroft
survived the floods outside to travel for one final mental dental appointment...
(remember the dentist's tower of fun?)
which, the weird part, turned out to be the high point of the day...!
Oh indeed, since elsewhere there was 24 bug lurgy fun (not swine flu, don't get carried away people!) but it did cramp my bohemian style (snort!) somewhat but not as much as having my house flooded.
Yes, flooded and not by the mammoth rain-fest outdoors - oh no! - but (oh the FUNNY) by the bathroom of the flat above mine out here in the wilderness...
And why? well, some sort of leak, yes indeed... so the housing association was notified and sent a chap round who 'fixed it' and promptly scarpered along with the flat owner...
(cue dramatic music)
leaving the residual (i hope!) water to pour through (four hours and counting) my ceiling!
On being told over the phone that nothing WHATSOEVER could be done, I am sorry to report that I lost my temper and allowed the words "fucking farrago" to pass my lips. Tut. Tut.
Still, i did feel bad for the hapless and useless phone-bod and rang to apologise later.
Still nothing to be done apparently, unless it keeps up for several hours more (!!!) - i have mopped the floors and put out pans to catch the drips and now have damp damage in every room of the house. The Associations response? "When it dries out we can send a plasterer."
Great - EVERY room in the goddamn house?!?!?
That'll be fun - maybe i can use the necessary furniture and kipple removal as a good excuse for a table sale...
Meantime, if i drown or more likely electricute myself ("If there's any problem with the electrics we can sort out an electrician" great - i'll just go play with the light switches shall I???) then remember people - i love you all, be nice and don't play in the traffc.
END OF RANT.