Tales of the LTRP: Part 285

Cathedral, Rio de Janeiro, April 2019

I have been trying to get a plumber to come round and advise or quote on the shower renovation. I've tried three: one didn't get back to me at all, while the second failed to arrive at the scheduled time, letting me know the following day that he'd dropped his phone in a bath of water so couldn't retrieve my address or phone number. We rescheduled, and he let me know that he was running late, and I said that was fine, and I have neither seen nor heard from him since.

Third time lucky, and the next set of plumbers I tried actually turned up. They are the same bunch that service my boiler, and have always been prompt, helpful and polite (except they were six hours late, but at least they phoned to let me know). As with any tradesman who ventures through the gates of Lola Towers, I asked them for their opinion on the blossoming damp patches on the wall adjacent to the pub, and they were kind enough to have a look, and came up with the most plausible explanation I have received so far, even if it probably isn't the right answer. I'm still waiting for the quote.

This prompted me to do what I should have done from the start: engage a proper roofer to come and have a look. He only defaulted on one visit (grandmother had a fall), and was black as soot when he arrived from his previous job with a fresh gash on his forehead where he'd hit himself with his van door. In his short visit I learned an awful lot about him and his life, but also that Elf (who had been the last one to tamper with the roof in question, in 2015) had used a non-permeable rubber material that is intended for flat roofs. My new roofer friend (I think we've reached Clf in the naming convention) diagnosed that condensation was accumulating underneath the rubber membrane and running down the brickwork, which is a possibility, I suppose. The quote wasn't excessive so with luck that job will be done in the next couple of months, and maybe the damp will even be cured. I'm not counting my chickens yet.

There's been plenty of other stuff going on, and I'm definitely busier now than I was when I was working four days instead of two. I think it's because I'm not putting anything off like I used to, when I needed to keep a few weekends free to avoid madness. I have had commitments every weekend since mid-August and up to the week before Christmas, and I couldn't have done that while I was working more days. For example, last Saturday I went to my music group on Saturday and down to London for mum's birthday on Sunday, with a concert on Sunday evening back home. I tried to fit in the Kenilworth fireworks display on Saturday night as well, but couldn't do it in the end.