The rain in Spain could be less of a pain

Testing, testing  . . . yep, the roof appears to be watertight. We’ve had enough rain over the weekend on Mallorca to put the repairs to the test, and the various buckets that usually come into play during stormy weather haven’t been necessary. The timing of the repair project couldn’t have been better: the builders finished applying the concrete over the roof surface on Thursday evening . . . and the rain started on Friday.

Black is black

The house currently looks like a total reformation project. The Boss has swathed all of the window shutters in black plastic to protect them from concrete splatters – and the plastic will remain until the tiles are back on the roof and the workmen have headed for projects new. Now I know what it feels like to be a mole . . .

At 7.50am this morning, the gang reported for duty. There was even a modest amount of stomping about on the roof – which must have been slippery after all the rain. But by 8.30am, they were sitting in their minibus, eating their second breakfast, and peering out through the misted-up windows. And that was the last we saw of them for today. Rain stopped work – and rightly so; we don’t want any builders sliding off the roof, thank you!

An unexpected visit

We’ve probably all heard negative stories about Spanish builders, so here’s a positive one:  On Friday – a public holiday here – Juan, the senior foreman, drove out to our house during a heavy shower, to check that we didn’t have any leaks inside the house. Now that’s what I call service.

Who lives in a house like this? Er, we do.

Rip ’em off guys!

Now that’s what I call a leaky roof – thankfully, not ours

At the end of March this year we made an application to the local council to have our roof repaired. This might seem an odd thing to have to do, but we live in an area that’s been designated of special environmental interest, and can barely sneeze here without someone official’s say-so.   We’re merely having the leaks fixed – I hope! – and adding some insulation (of which there is absolutely zippo at the moment). The old tiles will be ripped off (fairly gently, we hope) and put back on after the repairs, and it’s unlikely that the roof will look much different from the outside. But still we need permission . . .

Raindrops keep falling on my head . . .

We’d been looking forward to a cooler summer as a result of the insulation, but summer came and went without us being able to have the work done. We’ve now had the first of the autumn storms and discovered that there are even more leaks than before. Ever sat on a loo with rain dripping on your head through the ceiling? Surreal . . .

Most disappointingly, I had to suggest that my dad and uncle forgo their usual week’s holiday here in September, because we had no idea what state the roof – and house – might be in. As it happened, they could have come for their usual week after all, as we’d still not received the permit. Sorry guys.

Men at work . . . tomorrow

My heart sank at the weekend, when a friend told me about someone who’d had to wait two years for permission to do some work to their property. I became convinced that our roof repair wouldn’t be done this side of Christmas; then, yesterday, out of the blue, we had the good news that the work had been approved!

We’re told that the builders will arrive to start the job tomorrow morning at 8am. It’ll be dusty, noisy and disruptive and, for those reasons, I’m dreading it. But if it means we’ll stay warm and dry this winter . . . bring it on, hombres!