Testing testing 123
I thought it was about time I tested my new roof fix.
I ordered up a bit of a storm for yesterday. As usual it arrived later than the time I had specified and it wasn’t quite as wet as I had requested but it did eventually arrive after dark.
The problem with testing after dark is that it is difficult to assess any damage or otherwise up on the roof, but at least I could check all the usual leaks that cascade during rainy days. They had gone! There wasn’t so much as a dribble on the bathroom floor [apart from one little spot but I think that was more a result of canine incontinence. Poor Penny is getting old and forgetful].
So this morning dawned bright and breezy. Actually there is a near gale outside but the sun is shining again. The first thing I noticed was a sheet of corrugated plastic on the lawn. Fuck! I had brought down the sheets of tarpaulin and plastic which had been part of my emergency repairs, but I clean forgot about the corrugated sheets. And there were two of them. And I had one on the lawn but only one.
I sat and contemplated this little conundrum. Where the hell was the other one? I decided to check around the garden again only to find that the sheet that had been there had disappeared. Bugger! Fortunately it had left a trail of destruction so I just followed the trail and found it in the North Wood. But that still left the other one unaccounted for. I searched everywhere. I even went up on the roof to see if it was still there. It wasn’t.
So if anyone finds an eight foot sheet of corrugated clear plastic in the garden, it’s not mine.
And if it has caused injury, death or destruction then it definitely is not mine.
Okay?
I remember visiting a development project in Africa which included kilns that were used for making roof tiles. A colleague said they were pleased to hear it as flying corrugated sheets were lethal.
Working the evening shift at a petrol station many decades ago, a freak gale caused the whole canopy covering 6 pumps to disintegrate, carrying off 10ft long pie-segments of sheet steel, one of which was eventually found a mile away – they could have decapitated a bus-queue.
I had the unenviable duty of phoning the owner to tell him that his business had been destroyed and that I was now sodding off home before the canopy-bits got me too – not a happy bunny.