We have a leak. 'The Font' notices, and points out, a small lake on the floor of the 'snug'. I blame the puddle on Sophie's water drenched muzzle. Angus is a believer in procrastination as a cure for all things. At this point the leak introduces itself. It starts to drip slowly but then accelerates into one of those three drips every five seconds type leaks that signals a household crisis. The pipe from the shower outlet to the drain has been eaten by field mice.
None of the local tradesmen are answering their phones. I call the Secretary of the Golf Club. We're not related but share the same surname. 'Don't worry. I'll ask someone to pop by' he says in a tone of voice that implies getting a plumber at short notice is easily done. An hour later a team of young plumbers arrive. Cheerful, positive, polite and efficient. They stop the leak. They phone their boss. Major work is required. A shower unit has to be removed, a wall taken down and the floorboards 'lifted'. The field mice have been having a whale of a time in what was, for six months, an empty house. Nothing as tempting for a hungry field mouse as plastic drainage pipes and insulation. ' Aye, we see it all the time' says the most chatty of the team. The plumbers will come back later in the week. In the meantime we will use another bathroom. I send a glowing e-mail to the Golf Club thanking the secretary and praising the plumbers to high heaven. This should score brownie points with the local tradesmen who might start to show up on time. We now have to hastily plan for a bathroom refurbishment.
The plumbers go. The electricians arrive ... on schedule. They too are efficient and cheerful. Sockets are replaced and light fittings removed. The decorators don't show. The joiner does show up, but is dour beyond belief ( as in Scots undertaker type dour ) and recommends all sorts of work that seems ' secondary '. We want bookcases built. He wants to replace window frames. I'll find another joiner.
Sophie is confined to the 'snug' so that the tradesmen can work unhindered. She protests that she hasn't been allowed to supervise.
After a trip to the foreshore where Sophie snacks on seaweed we return home. I observe that she looks quite unlike any dog on earth.
Sophie is unconcerned. As any PON knows ' Beauty is in the eye of the beholder' . A little mud ... and kelp .... and badger poo can't detract from that. Her inner beauty shines through ... almost.
An old NY seafront hotel reborn. I'd like to stay here :https://www.caperesorts.com/pridwin