Yesterday the plumber finally arrived. It turned out to be one half of the A team. Remember? The duo who on seeing the amount of work involved in sorting out the leak last time promptly scarpered off on holiday? He’s lost his trusty sidekick. Apparently because the young un had completed his second year at college, The housing association could not afford to keep him on and so he’s been finished. This led to a lengthy discussion between us both about the sad demise of apprenticeships and who was going to do all the plumbing, electrics and joinery jobs when the older guys retire.
During my stay with my son and his family up in Scotland, the sorry saga of the shower was easily forgotten. Of course, it was back to reality on my return on the Wednesday. On the Thursday morning two men arrived at 8.00am, again a plumber and his mate. I showed him the depression in the floor by the door.
“Hmm. Looks like its rotted your floorboards love.” (we all call each other love in Yorkshire!) “We’ll be taking the shower tray up anyway as we need to do the job right, so we’ll see how bad it all is underneath then!”