I was languishing in my lounge on Saturday morning whilst Donna da Lodga was taking a bath.
I heard the gurgling signifying her egress from said Tub and wandered in to the hall to prevail upon her to depart so I may use the facilities in the small room.
Yet another horrific site greeted me. Water was running down the walls from the bath area - and into my electricity meter and switch gear.
The thick end of a bath full of water had dumped itself out through the bathroom floor and onto my newly decorated hall.
I was somewhat vexed.
Now, the bath is tiled in to the bathroom surrounds and is sealed. Contact to my emergency plumber informed me that I would have to give the fellow access.
Dash to DIY hell to acquire bolster and 2kg sledge hammer (BIG JOBS!).
So it was with trepidation that I set about smashing apart the fine tiling that clad the bath to gain access.
The joys of noisy destruction and usefulness!
So with two black bags of rubble, wood, tiles and dead grout I beheld the mess before me.
I espied a piece of soggy paper nestling under the bath - about a foot inside and underneath.
Upon it - writing. Curious I picked it up to read in
'Tiling By Alan (the Artisan) and Alice (his dog). Contact numbers supplied.
Now - I immediately wondered - for whom was such a note intended? The next owners? Me Later? If the tiling had failed - would he want his number there?
Would such an advertising campaign actually work? Who is the target market - and how would you test the effectiveness?
I also wondered quite what Alice's involvement was - other than drooling quietly and chewing 'Bonzo', her favourite toy.
Other than medieval cathedral stone-masons - who would do such a thing?
Fine mess though. DDL has still managed to get water everywhere. time to revoke bathroom rights, methinks.