Domestic Bliss

Mrs Farty has decided she'd rather have a shower cubicle than a bath - whatever a "bath" is - so we've been shopping around and found just the thing. We've found a reputable plumber, i.e. one we've used before who didn't rip us off, and he set to work today carefully removing the old bath. (We can probly get a few bob for it on on eBay.)

Then he took one look at the floorboards and said, "These are rotten, look!" And ripped one out with his bare hand. Sure enough, we remembered the bathroom flooding a few years ago after the drain pipe worked loose from the bath, but thought we'd managed to dry it out with a dehumidifier running flat out for two weeks. Wrong.

Not only are the floorboards rotten, so are a couple of the joists supporting them. I had a momentary mental image of Mrs Farty, sitting in the bath, crashing through the floor and into our neighbour's living room. "Air hellair, jahst thort Ay'd drope een four a cappa tea, don't-choo-know?" Then I remembered we live on the ground floor.

A quick phone call to the insurers confirmed our worst fears: "If you check the small print in the policy, you'll see that you're not covered for fraud. Nyer nyer nyer."

So we called a joiner, who raced around to Farty Towers toot sweet to assess the damage - about £240 plus labour. Plus parts. Plus callout fee.

Perhaps I should arrange an electrician, glazier and painter while I'm at it?