(For the avoidance of doubt... Nothing that follows is true. None of the characters refer to real people, e.g. 'Dad' does not represent my father, I have no 'Uncle Nigel', etc.)
Kitchen table
It had been rumbling on for ages. Uncle Nigel wouldn't stop banging on about it. So finally Dad organised a round-the-kitchen-table chat. By a show of hands, and the slenderest of majorities (six to five), we're going to go for it and get a new roof.
Of course, there were plenty of arguments against the expenditure. Dad said he quite liked the roof, that it had always done right by us and we should respect its inherent structural integrity - and maybe replace a tile or two if there was a problem.
Uncle Nigel kept saying that it was a useless roof because the rain that gets in, even though he's said for decades that he'll keep a watch on it and would definitely let us know if it ever needed fixing.
He was talking over Mum, who was trying to explain to him that this will happen sometimes because she likes to keep the window open up there - and maybe if we could just arrange a system for closing the window when it rains, we could solve the problem.
Sadly though, Mum had given the window management responsibility to some company called Idiota and they'd gone round making sure that all the other windows are securely locked shut. So we still have occasional leaks and the rest of the house is very stuffy.
No one was really paying enough attention at our kitchen-table meeting. Despite the fact that we were definitely talking about replacing the roof, it turns out that we all only voted to have the roof removed.
Of course we were also talking about getting a new roof, but we didn't actually vote for one. No need, apparently. What sort of fool would remove a perfectly good, if slightly leaky, roof without replacing it?
Demolition
Well, it's now really kicking off. Dad was so upset to lose the vote that he's gone to hide in the shed at the bottom of the garden.
So Mum has taken over and it's like she's become a new person. Instead of sticking to her guns, and saying we just need to sort out the window situation, she's told us that she has to respect our wishes to have the roof taken off. She's booked the demolition company, paid in full (non-refundable) and has made a list of a few local roofers but not bothered to call any of them.
Just a few more weeks, then apparently we'll be free of the horrific constraints of the old roof. We will get a new roof, says Mum. But if she can't find one she likes, she'll have no roof. Because better no roof than a bad roof.
Any umbrella
Cousin Liam turned up yesterday in a clapped-out old van stuffed full of parasols, garden umbrellas and awnings. It was great news that the roof was finally going, he said, as it meant we could have different rain/sun/cold protection for each room, tailored to its individual needs.
He tried to demonstrate by dragging a huge umbrella to Mum's bedroom but she told him he absolutely couldn't put it up in there as it was bad luck. He'd have to wait until the roof had gone. Step-brother George looked up from furiously scribbling in his journal to point out that it would be a bit late to test it then, especially if it was pouring with rain, but Mum put her fingers in her ears and both pretended she couldn't hear him and also said something about him not being her son and perhaps he'd like to join his father in the shed.
Speaking of Dad - no word from the shed for a long time. I saw Dad briefly last week when he stepped out and paced around grandly (head back, chest puffed out) but went back inside when no one seemed interested enough to go and talk to him. Or even lean out of the window and wave. (Actually, that was because the windows were locked shut. It's getting really stuffy in here now. The hamsters are pining.)
Clouds gathering
I was slightly nervous about the pressure washer that our neighbour has been using, in case it's strong enough to fire a wet salvo over our walls and into our rooms. But that's nothing: the people in the nearby villages are fed up with having a wash-out at their weekend farmers' markets so they're investing in cloud seeding. I think we might have picked a very bad time to be roof-less.
Everybody needs good neighbours
In all the excitement, we've forgotten something very important indeed. We live in a semi-detached house and no one's thought what will happen to the neighbours' roof when we take our roof away. It's not even really a separate roof, obviously. I can't believe no one noticed.
They're very miffed that we've booked the demolition company before even talking to them about it and they're not even slightly convinced that putting a few struts in place will work.
Mum has told them not to worry and that they will continue to enjoy all the benefits of their roof once ours has gone. Only, she hasn't told them how on earth that will work and they clearly realise that she's making it all up as she goes along.
Hopes cruelly dashed
The demolition company rang up. They asked if we're absolutely certain that we want the roof removed as they've heard we don't have a new one booked in. They're being really kind. They said that they've got plenty of work on at the moment - so they'll even give us a refund (on our non-refundable booking).
Mum was furious with them. Really!
She didn't even want to replace the roof, let alone remove it, originally. And now she's definite that it has to go, because apparently that's what we all wanted (even though nearly half of us didn't - and none of us asked to go roof-less). She started accusing the demolition people of interfering with something that was none of their business.
If she carries on like this, I don't have a good feeling that they'll leave the edges smooth when they take the roof away.
Meanwhile, Uncle Nigel has gone back to his house across the street. He hasn't been over since the kitchen-table incident and has a very nice roof on his house. But he likes to shout at us across the street to ask why it's taking so long to get that roof off the house which he loves so much that he only pops in occasionally for dinner (whether he's invited or not). He never brings a bottle.
To be continued...
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