Wasn’t that a fun weekend. Oh. Why? What did you do? Not a lot, to be frank. Wrote a couple of chapters, watched a bit of TV, used buckets of water to flush the loo, listened to the pump going off every 10 minutes, finally turned it off on Sunday afternoon because we’d run out of water anyway despite not having a shower for two days and using bottled water in the kettle, made an appointment with a plumber to look for a leak this afternoon as long as the boy downstairs remembers to be home at the right time, made a note to ask him (plumber) if it’s possible to add a second water tank to the existing, and how much will it cost, and another note to (again) let the landlord know the issue persists, and went to the bar for a drink.
Also took a photo of the rose.
Happy September, by the way. Already? I know. The weather has been thinking it was September since early August, so that’s been quite pleasant, but it makes me wonder if we are in for an early winter. But hey! At least we are not being misled by a slimy phobe called Farage, we’re not seeing vandals being allowed to spray paint sinister red crosses (badly) and otherwise vandalise the streets with misspelt words and impunity. (I know. I wrote it that way on purpose.)
Instead, we are looking forward to having lunch with the godson on Wednesday, Neil’s birthday and our anniversary this time next week, and a few other pleasant things for which we may or may not be able to wash. Oh, and I’m also looking forward to the mains water being switched on at eight so I can do just that.
It’s odd, and I must investigate – although I have mentioned this to the landlord. Houses up the road from us are on the mains 24/7, so how come we’re not? How do we get put on? That would save a lot of problems. I must ask Valantis later, or call into the town hall, or send an email and ask. Another job for this week, perhaps.
