The Great Flood

I managed to get up and showered nice and early today, as I was expecting two knocks at my door. The first was supposed to be the supermarket, delivering tasty, tasty booze; while the second was supposed to be a delivery of some minor guitar accessories. Who actually knocked on my door first was a lovely man from the council, who was here to inform me that there was another leak from my flat to the one below. I rolled my eyes and calmly made an appointment for them to come out this coming Monday. After the man left, I went and peeked out my lounge window onto the balcony and was shocked to see a lake out there. From corner to corner to corner to corner, the recent rainfall had settled, rising to about four inches. Eek! Now being concerned that this may actually affect my property, I spent the next two hours out there with a bucket and dustpan very, very, very slowly siphoning the water off and pouring it down the toilet. Sigh. I legitimately don’t think I’ve done that much physical labour in my entire life. Well, it seems to be mostly gone now, and apparently it’s going to be clear and mild over the next few days so, hopefully, by the time another torrent comes, the council will have don’t something about it.

Time for a paragraph break, methinks!

It actually took me two hours to get through to the council, starting off at number thirty-five in the hold queue. The lady at the call centre said they’d request an “escalation” on her computer to, hopefully, get somebody to ring and come out before the weekend. But, I dunno, I get the feeling nobody’s gonna call.

Strangely enough, even though it was a stressful event and very hard work, having something different to do was actually quite nice. I genuinely haven’t been out on my balcony for that long in the ten years I’ve lived here, and it may have given me the confidence to finally sit out there casually. I’m making no promises though.

While I was busy in the cotton fields, my shopping and guitar accessory orders did arrive, so I now have a fair amount of booze to get through. I was going to wait until tomorrow, when my regular pub reopens, but I think I’ve earned a few jars.

So, basically, I’m now going to get drunk and watch some therapeutic Parks & Recreation.

If you believe in any invisible space wizards, please pray to them for me to ask for no rain to fall in Sheffield over the weekend. It might be nice to distract them from persecuting LGBT folk, for a change.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!