Nothing to see here

I sort of expected this, but as my phone hadn’t rung before 8:30, I thought we might be lucky. However, shortly afterwards I got the call to tell me the plumbers were there but there was no one else there and, therefore, no way for them get into the house.

Assuming Deutsche Bahn doesn’t completely mess up*, I’ll be there myself tomorrow, as will apparently the Kerlin men. And then we’ll see. And Astrid will get her first chance to see the fully denuded house after another whirlwind journey tomorrow morning: Rodenkirchen, Duisburg, Angermund I believe. But could also easily include Timbuktu or Vladivostok, or both!

* While the Jormans can rightly complain about their rail service, they just don’t know how abject but expensive it can get until they’ve tried the wonders of bustards Britain’s privatised rail network. Where a standard return to London requires a mortgage and excuses include “leaves on the line” (how did those trees get there?) and everyone’s favourite “the wrong kind of snow”. Let’s just hope this year doesn’t end with a bastard child of Brexit and COVID   19, another Winter of Discontent. The last one in 1979 really wasn’t a lot of fun.