We have a leak

 Ann, walking with bare feet, noted a wet patch on the hall carpet. I apologised and said I must have spilt the coffee when I carried it through. Next morning, I felt a drip on my head. A crack had appeared in the ceiling, with a spreading stain. Investigation tracked it to the airing cupboard, and the valve to open the hot water system when the timer called it on. Water was jetting out, but only when the hot water went on so I wedged a baking tray to catch the leak.

We managed to get a plumber quickly, who made the diagnosis and phoned his supplier about a replacement valve. They had one in stock but said it had been reserved for another plumber; but when our man bent their ear with a plea about "this is an emergency", they agreed to order another valve in for the other guy. Our man returned quickly with the part, and then performed a miracle of plumbing engineering. He wrapped a sleeve round the pipe above and below the valve, and pumped freon through it. The pipe quickly froze solid, so he could replace the valve without having to drain the system. Amazing.

Following this, Ann noticed a new stain and crack appearing on her bedroom ceiling. Because of my severe itching, we have slept separately but for some time she had been disturbed by loud nightly noises in the attic above her rather than in the bed beside her. We worried that it might be rats or bats, or birds nesting, but the attic was clear of debris or droppings. Finally, we tracked it down to a pair of starlings nesting under the roof tile where the cement had broken away. We waited a few weeks until they had fledged, then found a local guy called Josh. The valley troughs were replaced a few years ago to fix other leaks, but Josh said they must have been cowboys because all the pointing to seal them under the tiles had worked loose and needed replacing. The birds had got in, and now the rain too. 

The Widower

I am continuing painting, turning to the neighbours for subjects. The first is David, who was widowed two years ago (see Stories and funeral). He is the affable organiser of our little Hundon men's group, but has the saddest eyes as though reflecting on all the might-have-beens in his life. My next neighbour must be selected to bring more cheer to the painting.