As Storm Doris blows past the house, I think it’s fair to say that smug mode has, well and truly, been engaged when it came to the timing of the roof repair.
It’s nice, if you happen to wake up in the middle of the night, to not lie there wincing every time the wind blows and it sounds like the roof is lifting off.
There are also quite a lot of plus points when it comes to not waking up covered in roof dust, or hearing the drip-drip of the leak that came and went.
And, so far, it’s entirely free. Our friendly neighbourhood roofer hasn’t sent us the invoice yet.
So I find myself in a strange position where I have to chase someone to ask them if they wouldn’t mind letting me pay for the work they’ve done. I’m happy to pay for it, I would prefer not to – obviously – but I really should.
My parents once managed to not pay for a mattress for the entire time they had it. It’s the stuff of legend.
I’ve made it four days into this roof and the guilt is eating me up…