Waiting for Fernando

The Rime of The Ancient Mariner springs to mind:
Water, water everywhere and all the boards did shrink.

Well, I hope they don't. Which is why I am waiting for Fernando.

There has been a vast amount of rain. Thus I was impelled, during a night when sleep did not happen, to get up, go downstairs and just check whether all that rain which relentlessly pounded the area was getting into the house. There has been so much rain over the last few weeks that the back doors have absorbed water, and thus could not be closed. The repainting somehow or other stopped the flyscreen/security doors from closing, and thus the water came in underneath the doors. Much mopping up had to be done. Water was also coming underneath the laundry door, but at least that was draining.

The downpour was extremely heavy, and came, unusually, from the east. As the house is on a slope, and on a corner, the water from the lane and the side street rushes downhill, goes around the corner and into the main drain in the street, just outside my house. So much water was going in that my drain could not get its fair share, and thus the water level rose.  Lots of wet towels to mop up all the water were needed.

So Fernando is coming to have another go at those doors. And to fix the joists so that the bounce and movement in the floor ceases to happen. I am rather sick of it but now, as it happens where I walk from the kitchen, through the dining room, into the lounge.

There is always something to contend with. Life is never dull. Just as well, eh!

At least the weather has been much cooler than February usually is. My house is rather chaotic at present, due to sporadic efforts to sort things out, and perhaps discard some more books. From time to time I go through some of Dr P's old files, to see which of them can be discarded, and which ought to be sent to join his other papers in our National Library. This is a time-consuming and laborious task, and not very effective, either. Perhaps it is the effect of summer, but at present I am not managing to deal effectively with my own affairs, such as the tax return. It is almost ready to be sent off, but interruptions have been very disruptive, and then, once energy returns, I need to start all over again. As it is, I make rather brief and feeble attempts to deal with it all, and then desist, closing the door behind me so that out of sight becomes out of mind.

You can understand why people employ secretaries: anything to avoid having to deal with such things oneself.

I am reminded of a photograph of Albert Einstein, surrounded by huge piles of books and papers, standing looking puzzled, with the caption: I know I had it here somewhere.

I feel just like that.

It is so much more enjoyable to read, to listen to music, to go (with feelings of ineffable virtue) for walks most days, to crochet, to see friends and go to classes and choirs. And engaging in such enjoyable pursuits puts off the task of sorting out all the documentation of all the less enjoyable duties of life.

Fernando has been here, given his diagnosis and remedies: more work, to enable more water to drain from the area, and then to sand down and shave the doors, and repaint. In the meantime he has managed to close the doors. Alas and woe. I had hoped it would be simpler. But it must be done. He has checked the joists and says it will be simple to fix. That's a relief.