We saw the funny side of it, of course, once I had my hands around his throat.

[reddragdiva]

And it's raining ... raining in my house. I suspect we've fallen into a BBC1 sitcom about a poly V.

Yesterday morning, the plumber came around to fix the leaky water tank in the ceiling, which supplies the toilet and the bathroom cold taps — the ballcock was defective, so it was overflowing continuously. (I am amazed water still isn't metered in London. This cannot last.) All good so far.

Yesterday evening, arkady came over to help with the cleaning for the inspection Monday. We now have a wonderfully polished kitchen ... Around nine, we heard what sounded like a shower starting. I looked out the bedroom door and saw water cascading down through the ceiling just near the manhole.

We promptly went into emergency panic mode, throwing books and electrical items out the way of the water, which was pouring through in the hall, bathroom, kitchen, just outside the bedroom door and one end of the lounge. Thankfully it missed the bedroom and spare room, so the piles of computers were safe. Flowed a fair way into the lounge, though.

After a while, the bathroom light started going on and off by itself. Then redcountess got zapped touching the wall in the hall. In the kitchen, water was actually spouting out of the light switch. Arkady could see the wires in the hall wall — they don't seem to be insulated. I switched off the power.

We managed to call a plumber. I dashed around the other flats alerting the neighbours and ran around outside looking for the main valve — if there's one in the flat itself, it doesn't actually appear to be accessible. (No, it's not under the sink or in the bathroom.) The neighbours came over to help, but the main valve outside was encrusted in mud and appeared never to have been used ever. I must confess that Arkady was considerably more manly than me.

The emergency plumber arrived around eleven. He hoisted himself up through the manhole, battled through the shower straight into his face, found the stopcock by the light of a cigarette lighter and turned it off. This is how emergency plumbers earn their pay. "Do we shower you with money now?" I said when he'd caught his breath.

The other three flats in our block have all suffered water damage as well. Downstairs has only just moved in and done a pile of renovation. I think he's starting to realise just what a lemon he's landed himself with. Next door got water flowing along the joists, and downstairs next door got water flowing down the chimney and throughout his ceiling. He is spectacularly unhappy as he's just been doing his flat up to rent out. We've taken care to give our agent's details to all of them.

The ceiling is fucked, though the joists are solid so it's unlikely to collapse now the water's drained. The carpets are soaked, as is the bathroom, and will absolutely reek once they've dried. We can't turn on the central heating as the boiler has electrical ignition; we can't turn on the electricity until the walls and ceiling dry out enough.

The agent finally called back this morning and sent another plumber around. Friday's didn't fuck up, he just failed to notice that the pipe to the water tank was so corroded that proper functioning in the rest of the system was enough to burst it twelve hours later. (Being a lemon, fixing any one thing in the flat breaks five others.) This was comically demonstrated when I had my head up through the manhole as the second plumber was showing me what had gone wrong, he tapped the pipe, it came out again and showered me with water. Arkady said it was material for Funniest Home AVIs.

Our flat presently has no electricity and no working toilet. We'll be looking to break the lease on the grounds of being unfit for habitation. (I think they'll have trouble coming up with a convincing reason to take any of our bond.) I also have a nasty feeling that getting the emergency plumber fee out of the agent will be like pulling teeth. He begged off coming around today and will be around Monday morning. By then an electrician should be able to inspect and condemn the place.

Liz and I are now sitting in Arkady's lounge. (Liz has posted too.) I am sipping gulping a cup of coffee with two shots of vodka in for medical reasons. I'm currently plotting to find who is writing this sitcom so as to strangle them.