Well I just know you're all dying to know how our little plumbing saga progresses - and as I'm currently suffering something of a block on what to do tool-storage-wise in the second cupboard there's nowt much in the woodworking line to tell you. Even the car boot sales came up empty-handed. Oh, and as at least one Colonial has expressed puzzlement over what exactly a car boot sale is, I offer up this as giving some of the flavour. Take particular note of the picture bottom right of page one - are those people looking at the wares or waiting to see the table collapse...?
Anyway, the water directing operatives... In theory this thing was going to take four days; on Friday, the fifth day, they made considerable progress, no unwanted holes and things were going quite well. Trouble is that on Thursday we'd already discovered someone had boobed somewhere and we had the wrong flue kit. In the main it's all down to the inadequacies of the boiler manufacturer's catalogue, so we'll let off Vic and the boys at Plumbase. On the other hand it meant the correct parts had to be extracted and so no progress until they come. Monday? No. Tuesday. Ack.
In the meantime all this jolly piercing of pipes has lend to a good deal of valve action at the mains stop-cock. On Saturday we discovered it was leaking.
Pause. Breathe. Count to ten.
Okay, not a big leak, but a persistant one. Oh good, it's going to have to be replaced. That's nice. It's right here, handy to the computers and lots of moisture-absorbing magazines and books. Not great pics, sorry - just to give a flavour really.
Oh yes, and the room's been lined so we'll have to cut out a section of wall to get at it at all. Apparently quite a large section of wall...
Pause. Breathe. Count to twenty.
A deep sense of foreboding says that nothing short of complete emptying and dismantling of the entire bookshelf and removal of all items to a bunker somewhere in another country will suffice to ensure success, but as it is at the moment we're going for unwarranted optimism and a lot of plastic sheeting...
I'm giving up breathing - it's just prolonging the agony.
Edit: Later... I'm not making this up, honest. The boys at Plumbase have called - the flue kit that should have been delivered today ready for Vic and Ben the flowerpot men tomorrow, well, how can I put this? It wasn't. For some inexplicable reason it only got as far as Yeovil. In Somerset. 150 miles away.
They swear it'll be delivered by 9am tomorrow morning. Hmm...