My House Disaster.

I arrived home from Singapore (of which more anon) and snuggled into bed. It was Saturday night – Body clock Sunday afternoon – only to be woken by freezing cold water dripping down on my feet. I checked the time; it was 1 am. The weather outside was horrendous. I figured the roof was leaking. I moved over in the bed and tried to ignore the dripping water. No, it was not to be ignored; it persisted until I was engulfed and had to surrender and move into the front room. By 3 am the storm had abated, but the water was still dripping persistently down onto the bed, the carpet, the next floor, and the basement. After that I just got up and emptied buckets and saucepans which were filling perilously fast.

By 9 am the house was flooded. Reluctantly, I called my Roof Maintenance, Paddy Wright – it was Sunday Morning and we were both listening to Sunday Miscellany on RTE radio – but Paddy was over within five minutes, followed by a crack team of what I can only describe as a family of Bears – confident, professional, sympathetic, ready to sort me out.

The team got to work immediately: water turned off at the mains (not before the kettle was filled) – a new tank ordered for Monday, two dehumidifiers in place for three days, and an insurance assessor over on Sunday afternoon.

I made pots of tea and rounds of toast with real butter.

My big worry was my piano; it was a present from my mother, and I treasured it. It had suffered some water damage, but I played it back to life, with the dehumidifier humming along, and within two days it was perfect!

While testing the piano, I gave a little concert for my crack team while they circled the piano with mops and brushes and buckets.

Paddy called it the Modern Day Titanic.