To my utter astonishment, the plumber bloke turned up. He came on Wednesday, which come to think of it, wasn’t that much of a surprise, given that he was due last Saturday. It seems like about a tenth of people in service industries have no idea what time or day it is, and just do their thing whenever the hell they feel like it, and it seems like my landlady hires most of them. Quite possibly they even have to pass a test in it. Tardiness-124, something like that, to prove they have a total contempt for the whole concept of appointments.
So anyway he came. He wandered into the bathroom for a bit of a look, pulled out a notepad and scribbled some incomprehensible plumbers gibberish on it, and mentioned that the landlady was unlikely to be happy, which I took to mean that fixing the dampness coming through the wall was going to involve a fair amount of money. Basically a new shower, it sounds like.
My place could, quite frankly, do with a new shower. It could also do with some new carpet. The carpet here is not only a totally hideous colour (and it didn’t get that way by having kid/s living here for five and a half years) but it also has a number of rips. Not the dangerous beach type of rip that will take grown adults to a drowning death, but the conventional type of rip of a carpet that has quite definitely seen better days.
But we have to take things one step at a time, and if the shower happens to pop up first on the list for replacement, that’s fine by me. The door is pretty rickety, almost as much as the door frame. And the less said about the glass, the better. The shower head itself is okay, and blasts the hot water down nicely, but most of the rest of it is probably past its use by date.
What next then? I will await with some eagerness the announcement that my landlady is going to splash out on an entirely new shower. But once again, I’m definitely not holding my breath.