Rooftop swimming pool

I have no idea how people work without a schedule. Take our builder and various contractors as perfect examples. They rarely give a day (let alone a time) for when they’re coming round. It’s always a case of “John will be round to see,” or “Frank wants to see it.“

I understand that they need to fit in these annoying fix-ups when they can but they must be disappointed a lot with no-one being home. It’s not like people are home 24/7 (or 24/24 as they say in France).

You could be visiting next door or just walking back from the shop down the road and they’d have missed you. Whereas, if you KNOW they’re due to put in an appearance in the afternoon, say, then you could make sure you’re around. Surely that’s the beauty of having a mobile phone.

And so, today, Roofer John and his buddy turned up, completely out of the blue, to see if they could trace the cause of the leak. In fact, Builder Dave’s text read:

“John will be there next week I’ll let him know” – the lack of punctuation is his.

Still, I shouldn’t complain because they did turn up and I was there. And they stood and looked and debated.

John was convinced the problem lay with the ceiling lantern, an opinion which changed by the time they left.

“It’s definitely the ceiling lantern,” he asserted. “It always is.“

“I’m certain that it’s not the ceiling lantern,” he concluded an hour or so later.

The plan was a simple one. They filled the roof with water, creating an 8″ deep pond atop our extension. If the leak was in the fabric of the roof then it should start dripping at some stage. A good plan, I agreed.

I was a bit concerned that it might start leaking after we’d gone to bed because given the gallons of water up there, I could get up to an extension awash with water with the diminutive size of the bucket. Roofer John told me to ring him as soon as it started dripping, regardless of the hour. And with that dire warning, they left.

We were sitting having lunch about 15 minutes later when the dripping started. I texted John and, satisfied that we possibly had a solution, we enjoyed our salads.

His buddy turned up half an hour later and unplugged the outlet so the water could drain away. The next step is to completely clean the roof, dry it then apply another layer of fabric on top of the old one. It won’t be me doing it, I hasten to add. 

The one thing they (Roofer John, Builder Dave, John’s buddy) keep stressing is how fragile the roof surface material is. A small pebble in your shoe could puncture it, they say. I wonder they use it if that’s the case. There’s always a need to go up there and try as I might, I can’t guarantee I haven’t taken a small pebble up on the sole of my shoe one time or another.

Anyway, let’s hope this fixes it.

Meanwhile, I made my Christmas cake. I know I’m almost a month late but, to be honest, I completely forgot. Still, it’s done now which means the house was filled with delicious smells as it cooked for the requisite 4.5 hours.

Then I made a roast. A Monday roast. That might seem completely wrong but given I didn’t cook anything the whole weekend (tapas Saturday, Chesil Sunday) I thought I should.

Mirinda’s choice was Persian chicken. It was super yum.