Saturday, 26 November 2011

Something happened to my bathroom.

Something bad.  Something involving my husband and the toilet and what looks like it might have been a pick axe and the mistaken belief that he could replace a broken part without having to call a plumber out.

Pre Something Bad, the bathroom was one of the only rooms in our house of horrors that was acceptable.  We bought the house fairly cheaply four years ago because it had been repossessed.  It was pretty disgusting.  We had no heating for ages, the walls were all smeared with something grey, the ceilings were falling in and somebody had drawn a little smiley face on the bannisters.  The decor was largely orange.  Since then, we have chipped away at bits of it in an attempt to do it up, and we've been slowly getting there.  The bathroom was nothing like the wet room of my dreams.  There was no deep, vintage tin bath or power shower, but it was white, serviceable and completely inoffensive.

Now it looks like rats have gnawed on parts of it and someone has attacked it with a blunt instrument (oh, wait, that actually happened didn't it?) and there are holes everywhere.

Let this serve as a lesson to women everywhere that the answer to "Are you sure you can fix it on your own darling?" is always "NO".  Even if you hear the words "Yes, it's a piece of piss", the answer should still be "NO".  And if after an hour of banging, crashing, mysterious trickling sounds and muttered swear words you happen to shout up the stairs "would you like me to call an emergency plumber out?", the answer should always be "YES", not "No, no, I've almost got it" followed by the sound of several tiles falling off the wall and the hiss of a water pipe gushing forth all over the floor.

This is one of the reasons that I found myself perusing the Natural Stress Relief Medicines section in Boots earlier this week like it was the long lost Woolworths pick and mix counter.  If any of you encounter a similar situation in the future, I recommend Bach's Rescue Remedy.  Only don't bother with the recommended 3 drops on the tongue at times of anxiety - you need to neck the bottle for the best effect.


  1. Ha ha! I am so rubbish at DIY. A while back we put a new dishwasher in and I was trying to unscrew the pipe for about an hour. I gave up, my wife took one look at it and unscrewed it in about two minutes - I'd only been trying to unscrew it in the wrong direction! Idiot.

  2. I'm fortunate - I suppose - that my husband is competent at DIY. He can do plumbing and wiring and build stuff and does it pretty well. He just does it very, very slowly. If he says a job will take a week, it may take two. Or I may find, *months* later, that he has got distracted by other things and the bathroom floor is still half up and the cupboard is in the doorway. I wish I'd had to call a plumber.

  3. I have a partner who will not to any DIY ever, under any circumstance. Not even putting up a small hook from IKEA. I am seriously tempted to offer my extremely competent DIY enthusiast next-door-neighbour some kind of personal service in exchange for doing small jobs. What d'ya think? Awkward?

  4. Anything that gets your DIY done is a goer. That's my thoughts on the subject.