It is not raining it is pouring
If there is a groundhog day let's hope it is not today. What happened today began a while back, very innocently with a wood burning stove and a snowstorm. I think I mentioned our new wood burner and the mysterious smoke that appeared in No1 son's bedroom. Eventually the mystery was solved, our grand adviser had capped the wrong chimney..... Which left us with a problem solved and slightly smelly bedroom.
Arrive the June heatwave and what was a slight aroma became a full blown stink. The "grand changing of bedrooms" that was designed to happen after No1 son went to university became an non-scheduled holiday activity. I am not talking moving a few beds around. This time the plans involved building walls up back stair to create a 6th bedroom and removing last of the chipboard build-in horrors that were here when we moved in. Not to mention fresh paint on the walls and bringing skirtings and doors back to original wood.
It also involved boys sleeping in pink bedrooms, sawdust everywhere and frequent trips to the suppliers. While all this was going on inside, outside was in the grips of demolishing all snow damaged steading, creating new power access to house, renewing and replacing existing private water supply and generally digging up the yard. Sometimes I have access to the car and sometimes I do not. No3 son is in charge of the digger and negotiating with a 13-year-old can be a dodgy business at best.
By last night I was feeling rather good. Car was able to reach the garage once more and No5 daughter's bedroom had reached the stage where I asked Hisself to remove the radiator so I could do the little bits behind it. Got most of the job finished and felt rather happy. It is about time that No5 moves away from our bedroom to her own one next door. I no longer fear her falling down the stairs at night.
Just before six this morning No4 daughter walked in announcing that "it was raining in her bed". Hisself did a giant leap and right enough. Last night's radiator was still against the opposite wall and a faulty frost valve had opened itself during the night with the result that it was not only raining in No3's bed but the office ceiling was more like Niagara Falls than anything else.
Panic stations. No4 is a wonderful child who has her head screwed on the right way round. I iron in the office and first of all she rescued what was dry and hang the rest outside to drip. I washed eight loads the day before so we are not talking two jumpers and a pair of socks here. While Hisself climbed back into his bed for a nap and few cups of tea I frantically carried things out the best I could. Luckily we were in the half away from computer but I had 15 meters of shelving in my hands with the added pleasure of cold water running down my back. Not to mention the periodical explosions in the ceiling paper that brought small water bombs down when I least expected.
It all finally came to an end, about the time when No5 daughter wakes up. After giving a severe lecture to Hisself about going back to bed I listened and finally agreed. I was the best person to do the job. I knew where everything was and we did not loose anything related to work, nor anything with personal value. Losses that could have run to several thousands were reduced to a few jigsaw puzzles and half a dozen books that can be replaced for under £100.
Nevertheless I went to bed last night thinking that I had two floors to sort out in addition to No5's room. Tonight I have five rooms in pieces, entire contents of the office in the hallway, carpet on front lawn and dog watching rabbits from the comfort of an armchair on the front step. Nothing so bad that it could not get worse. I went to the raspberry bush to calm my nerves and while I was away No3 son had a little accident with the digger. Digger and son are fine but my garden wall has a gate size gap and I am sure I did not order one!!
"Never two without a third" said Hisself on his way out to mow arable silage. The mad grin he returned with at teatime should have been a warning. The mower conditioner unit snapped a bolt and broke the welds holding it on. There was an "attack of the gas" and we now have more scrap than the scrap man can carry away in a load. It will be Christmas before I have dug myself out of this hole.
Mad life it may be, but at least I am not bored.