The dripping tap
FOR the past year, we have lived in a house with a dripping tap. I’ve tried, unsuccessfully, to fix the problem, but it persists and the irritation isn’t quite sufficient to justify the expense and effort of calling in a professional to fix it. It remains a nagging annoyance and one, moreover, for which I’m somehow held responsible.
A solution, however, has unexpectedly emerged. Attending a charity auction in the Mansion House, one improbable prize leapt out from the list on offer: a visit by a reputable plumber. To my wife’s alarm and astonishment, I entered the bidding and secured it. The tap feels fixed already.
The week has otherwise had a slightly dreamlike quality. Through the kindness of grandparents, we are enjoying a holiday from our children (and they from us). The house feels oddly empty, but it’s a pleasure to be woken by an alarm, rather than the weight of a child in the small of the back and to start the day without a quarrel over homework and music practice. It’s an even greater treat that possessions remain where you put them and that rooms remain tidy.
Real life will resume shortly, but, as a change, it’s bliss. JG