Waterworld

A slightly strange noise roused me from my slumbers at 10am this morning (yes, I know, but that's what the weekend is for, right?). The sound of heavily running water, like a shower. I vaguely considered ignoring it, then had the, "No, seriously, what is that?" thought. Good job too, as I dashed into our main living area to find water pouring down from various points all over the kitchen/dining room ceiling in an impressive waterfall effect. Turns out upstairs' toilet had flooded - the cistern thankfully, not the waste pipe, so it's not skanky water, but still, aaargh!

The good news: the stash is fine, being safely in its trunks about two feet beyond the limit of the wet area. I should probably consider lining the inside of the bottom one with plastic though, in case this happens again. Everything in the top one is bagged already. Luckily we don't have carpets so no damage there other than the potential for us to break our necks skidding on the wooden floors. Because it was in that bit of the house, there's not much else damaged except that the breakfast cereal and washing powder are a bit damp. Except...

The bad news: my beloved big leather holdall from Liberty was on the floor in the dining room, in the firing line. It's the most expensive thing I have ever bought myself (well, that isn't jewellery), being worth a grand (it was in the sale though at 75% off so as Lotta and Gail pointed out at the time, impossible to resist). It is, or rather was, beautiful racing green patent leather. It now has awful black water marks all over the front. Observe the horror:

I am hoping that it will dry out a bit and look better. We're pretty sure the water had only been flowing for around ten minutes when we caught it so it could be worse. I am going to call Liberty tomorrow for advice, unless any of you guys know what to do? Otherwise I do have the receipt for an insurance claim, hence the photos, but that depends on whether they'll replace it or refund what I paid. And the premiums will go up. Buggering fuck. It's my own fault as it shouldn't even have been there; I had lazily failed to unpack it from our trip down to my parents' place last weekend (good thing this didn't happen then whilst we were away, right?), and it should have been safely away in its dust bag in the cupboard. Damn and blast.

Oh, and because the water was pouring down through the light fittings, and behind and over the electric hob and oven, we can't have the lights on or cook until the electrician has been tomorrow. We had to hit the greasy spoon for breakfast. Mind you, upstairs had it worse as their toilet was out of action all morning until the plumber came after lunch.

Yet again I am terribly pleased that we rent rather than own this place, as it is marvellous to be able to ring somebody and make it their problem to get it fixed now, without having to pay for it. I really do love renting. OK, we can't have pets, but that's a small price to pay (and we are thinking of getting an illegitimate hamster anyway) for easy household repairs and frankly, the ability to move if the neighbours are antisocial. We even got a new washing machine earlier this week.  Property ladder be damned, I would say, if I weren't so busy with the mop and bucket...