Here I am waking up this morning absolutely baffled by the large puddle I found my bed in. Had it been that in the night waters had risen and my bed had bobbed along only to be safely set down at dawn? What sprite had poured a bottle out beneath me whilst I slept? Whence came you, little pond?
“What’s happened?!” I texted my mum, who at 3,000 miles removed seemed best placed to resolve this confuddlement. “You have a leak”, she texted back. Being a sensible, competent sort of lass I dealt with it immediately by decamping to the living room and having a coffee. A persistent storm and a damp flat making complete drying of the rugs and slippers a distant dream for now.
I have been hemming and hawing about a (post-mop) sprinkling of dry rice around the skirting, because I love a botched home remedy. But the visual of rice and mouse droppings intermingled in chiaroscuro makes the idea a bit of a moist squib. What sad star-crossed thought it is that my bulk-bought dehumidifying tubs are left safely, drily, in Blighty! I will reconsider rice when I have emptied some jars of preserves and can combine it with vessels.
Anyway it was pretty considerate timing because yesterday I learnt the colloquial expressions for:
- there’s condensation (lit: the window is sweating)
الشباك عم يعرق – ash-shubaak a’m ya’ariq
- it’s leaking
عم يدلف- a’m yudlif
- damp ground
أرض غرقانة- ‘ard ghar’aanih
اسيول – asyuwl
No regrets, except the absence of terrier sidekick.
Dear sweet readers, for whose opinions on dampness I have the highest respect, do not be afeard to offer solutions to a prolific unidentifiable leak. I will not accuse you of mansplaining.
Eternally yours damply!