The Old Wet House.

One of the greatest of my several bêtes noir is any kind of invasion of my personal space. It can send me very quickly into a rage or depression, depending on the circumstances.

There are several things that can invade a person’s space, and one of my current culprits is water – rainwater. It’s started to run in at the bottom of a sloping ceiling in my spare bedroom, and I had the agent out last Tuesday to look at it. He made a quick assessment and diagnosed it as almost certainly a crack in the lead that lines the gully between two small gables. He said he’d call a builder the following day and instruct them to get onto the roof to make a proper diagnosis. I was expecting the builder the same day, since water can cause a lot of damage and is usually treated urgently.

Well, nobody has turned up yet and tonight we had a rare old electric storm. The rain has been coming down in sheets for some time, and both wall and ceiling are getting predictably wet.

In trying to make light of it, I remembered this little clip from the classic old horror film The Old Dark House. My current circumstances are not dissimilar. The character of Horace Femm has a line which runs ‘…you don’t seem to understand!’ I wonder whether the agents administering the Norbury Estate understand that serious problems need urgent attention. They’ve been occupying the position for 2½ years now, and they haven’t shown much sign of understanding it yet.