BREAKDOWNS

Why is it that since Joe died everything, well it seems like everything, is breaking down, desk, washing machine, toilet, doorbell, computer, and little old me.

When the door bell recently packed up Karen, my son’s partner, arranged for an electrician to fix it. Karen works for a company that fits doors and windows and the electrician is someone they use a lot. This guy came more or less straight away, which pleased me since I don’t like not hearing people at my door.

The bell was unfixable so the guy replaced it with a new one. Brilliant, I could now hear folk when they visit. It didn’t cost too much, £50 which included labour.

It lasted a few weeks.

There was a strange and rather loud noise that I couldn’t identify. I moved round the house to establish where it was coming from, thinking maybe it came from the loft which housed water tanks, wiring and stuff for the central heating, shower unit and lighting, and finally fixed on a spot in the hall which is underneath the loft area. To say I was worried is an understatement. I had visions of things in the loft (which I have never visited) caving in. It took a guy working at next door’s house to identify the cause. It was, of course, the new bell. The guy opened it and we could see wires ‘shorting’. Sparks everywhere. Disconnection was the only way until the bell was replaced or repaired.

I waited weeks, a bit like the wait for the washing machine repair/replacement.

The guy who fixed the bell seemed to have gone into hiding. No reply on his mobile phone, no response to text messages sent by Karen. He rang when I first reported the matter and said he would get in touch. I began to think he’d forgotten! I visualised having to get someone else to look at the situation, and pay for the privilege. Again!

Then I had a phone call to say he had all the ’stuff’ in his van ready to call but because he lived a distance away he hadn’t been able to get here. He said he would come at the weekend when he had nothing else on. I didn’t get excited!

In the meantime, whilst waiting for the electrician, the toilet developed a

strange habit of rocking whenever I flushed it. I found all was well if I held it steady whilst pressing the handle. The trouble was I didn’t tell Hannah (cleaning lady) to do the same and after her last visit I found one tile off the shelf at the back of the cistern ... and huge cracks elsewhere. The only thing I could think of when I discovered it was that Hannah had dropped something on it, something heavyweight – like a brick.  Wrong, it was the fault of the plumber who fixed new innards into the cistern a few weeks before and hadn’t adjusted the height.  Hannah’s husband, a primary school teacher, was called in to try and fix it. And fix it he did, as well as making a great job of replacing the tiles. So much for qualifications, eh?

Electrician came as promised, albeit an hour later than he said but I admit heavy traffic can have an effect on appointment-keeping. The old ‘new’ bell was removed and a new one fitted, but this time the wiring was checked and a fault found in the bell-push itself. Not the bell at all, would you believe. Thankfully I wasn’t charged for a second bell or anything else, for that matter. End of story? Not even in my dreams!

WHY?

Because it happened again, late evening. I had just had a shower when I heard the noise again. Not as loud as before but definitely frightening. I couldn’t even reach it and wouldn’t touch it if I could. I definitely needed help and soon. I wouldn’t have a wink of sleep with that noise going on. In desperation I rang a neighbour to ask if he knew an electrician who would come out at short notice. He didn’t, but he knew a man who might take a look. That man was another neighbour.

Five minutes later both men arrived at my door. I felt awful, having just washed hair and wearing nightwear. Ooooh! Oh well, they’re both elderly folk and must have seen it all before.

The more practical of the two disconnected the bell and advised me to buy a battery operated doorbell. Great advice! However, since both men were both going abroad on holiday I would have to find someone else to do it. I ignored this, thinking I would be able to do it myself.

So, I bought the bell, read the instructions and gave up. Later that day my iPad wouldn’t open, well it would open but nothing could be seen on screen. This on top of some agonising days when two laptops failed to work and an expert called Marco had to be called in.

Off to the computer shop went I and laboured the tale to the Marco, all the while wondering if he thought he was dealing with a dumb-cluck instead of a grown woman with intelligence to die for (my view!). While he looked at it I told him about the bell and like all gentlemen he said he would call round and fit it for me. He knew the address since he had so recently had to repair two laptops.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I discovered the update to Windows 10 had completely knocked my printer programme haywire. I didn’t realise until I had to scan some papers and found they appeared on screen upside-down with no way to turn them round. It took me ages to sort it and to discover that it now takes twice as long to scan a document simply because it was somehow updated along with Windows 10. I swore it would be easier to buy a new laptop. 

Things on the computer front took a turn for the worst when I was barred from enjoying internet usage altogether. It was time to invest in new equipment, which I have now organised. All I can say at this point is thank goodness for iPads. I started this post with a struggle on the laptop and ended it on the ipad. Hopefully I will be back to normal by next week.

On top of all this the garden fence collapsed which meant calling in an expert fencer. This was nobody's fault but it was my responsibility to put right. Just another thing to add to the list of casualties. 

So, this is the year of loss, breakages and breakdowns, bust appliances and programme failures and I’m thanking the good Lord for allowing all the kind men to take care of my problems, all except bell fixers and those who supply dud washing machines.