More weather

Oh boy, did we have weather yesterday.

Barb sent me a text message at about five yesterday afternoon to say that in Salisbury they were having torrential rain.

I was on the bus passing by Wingerworth at the time and we had only very, very light drizzle.

At just after six, Barb rang to say that the local roads were flooded, her back steps were behaving something like Niagara Falls and that when she had opened her back door much, much water had poured out. The water had been running down the steps, along the path and in under the door and through the catflap. The cat was marooned in the dining room, not wishing to get wet paws.

We had fitful sunshine.

The Builder came back, reporting that Lincolnshire had been very, very wet indeed. The local news reported massive floods in Wakefield and chaos on the roads in North and West Yorkshire.

Tupton was nice and dry and quite warm. An island of dry surrounded by a sea of storms.

We got the rain at about 8. Heavy, even very heavy. But not really torrential. But heavy enough that the (satellite) television reception had gone down (why does it do that, sometimes, when there is very heavy rain, and then not do it at others?) and I had gone around and closed all the windows.

Then it stopped and the sun came out and I opened the kitchen and bathroom windows again.

Come ten o'clock and you find me chatting to Tony on the internet, as is my wont on a Wednesday evening (not next Wednesday, for I am Going Out!). Very, very, VERY heavy rain indeed. Beyond torrential. And the telly reception was fine!

The Builder noticed that my wine glass was empty and got up to take it into the kitchen to refill it. Stopped dead in the kitchen door. "Good heavens," quoth he (although he didn't; he said something very much more forceful than I could possibly put onto what is really a public forum!) "Just look at all this water!" Water? What water? Ambled into the kitchen. Good heavens. There is a positive waterfall coming through the kitchen ceiling. But where from? There's a bathroom overhead. Ah -- but not at that point. That is the point where the extension begins. We grabbed buckets, I rushed out into the yard to grab the mop (kept dashing back to the laptop to send progress reports to Tony!) and started mopping. The Builder ran upstairs to investigate. He says (and he should know, being a builder, although if anyone else suggested it I would be deeply sceptical) that there was water cascading in to the bathroom through the open window. About which I had forgotten. Most of it was falling into the bath which is under the window but that quite a bit of it was going down between the bath and the window sill where the seal was not as intact as it might be. Must re-seal the bath!

Oh well. The kitchen floor needed washing anyway, and all's well that ends well. And dry!

That van isn't half being troublesome. It was supposed to go for its MOT on Saturday but couldn't because it is too high to fit in the MOT garage. So, The Builder arranged for it to go next door for servicing and pre-MOT checks yesterday. There was a problem with this because some vital number or something was missing from the chassis and they can’t do the MOT without it. For some reason. Would have to be done today. Now, this means that The Builder needs the car to get to work, and I come in by public transport. No real problem with this. It's quite a restful way of getting to work, although it is expensive. But today, I was supposed to be taking the cat to the vet for his little operation and then taking him from there back to The Sidings after work. Can’t do all that by bus and train. Put off the operation. Arrange to collect the cat after work on Friday. The Builder gets home from work and ambles off to the garage with the registration certificate which has the necessary number or whatever. Comes back to tell me that the brakes are about to go and he has to pay them loadsa dosh to get them fixed. And he has to put some money up front. We don’t either of us tend to carry large wodges of cash about and there's no cash machine in the village. Off he heads into Chesterfield to find some bank notes. Sigh. That van will, I tell you, it will be a brand new van by the time we've finished replacing everything! Anyway, it's being serviced and (I hope -- oh how I hope!) MOTed today. At least while it's in the garage, The Builder has no temptation to park it outside No 6 QVR. Though I think they may be away. Their shiny new 4WD is missing and their curtains are all closed.

The Builder's Decree Nisi paper has arrived. I assume that means in 6 or 7 weeks time Barb's solicitor will apply for the Decree Absolute and he will be a free man. Although he won't be free really, being, as he is, held captive by me in the cellar!

Memo to self. Burger King does not sell food. If I should be overwhelmed with the wish to eat egg and bacon sandwiches, go to Rollers (the student refectory) which does!