Dust...Anyone? No?....Dust!

Well the ceiling saga has been finally put to bed. Our man, Mike, has been loitering with intent around at our place for the last three weeks trying to fix the abyss that had become our kitchen. On first, second and third inspections it was stated that it was a two day job. No bother thought we. We can live in the second bedroom for a couple of days. I didn't even think about the repurcussions of losing my beloved foxtel (crap Sky) as we were led to believe that this job, no matter how big it actually looked, was only a flick of the wrist away from being completed.

We forgot we were dealing with Aussies here.... or at least pommie bastards that had been living here for long enough to develop the inherent laid back casual attitude. On the first morning (after Dave had lugged all the tellys, hifis, several thousand CDs, coffee tables, kitchen gear etc out of the living/kitchen area) Mike arrived bright eyed and bushy tailed. He wondered into the house and pondered the ceiling.

'Ah, bugger. I don't think I have enough ceiling boards to cover it. Who measured the ceiling, eh? It was probably my work experience boy. Bloody hell, I'll have to go and think about this one...'

And off he went for his first ciggie. Over the course of the three weeks, Mike wore a smooth bottom shaped indentation into the low garden wall. This was his contemplation spot. The place he ran to when he broke the curtain rail, the seat he relaxed into when he had to sack his plastering apprentice and the general location of his ever present thermos and never ending packet of fags.

Mikes friend soon came round to help with the heavy lifting. They took only a few minutes to remove the props placed over a period of several weeks to support the deteriorating ceiling. As they struggled with the last one, dragging it out of the front door there was an almighty crash and then a cloud of fine white dust exploded through the house. Apparently the ceiling didn't need any encouragement to get down and party. It ripped itself from the walls and cornicing and fell in four pieces to the ground.

I did tell them at the rental agency that it was falling down!

Obviously this was all the encouragement Mike and his mate needed to light up another ciggy to calm the old ticker!

It was then that I realised that two days for the project was a nigh on impossible dream. Dave and I would be living in a shanty town for weeks, possibly months. We resigned ourselves to living in the spare room with only four crap channels of telly, eating sushi and thai curries from the Freo markets (well it can't have been all bad! I love having the excuse to go to Wok in a Box), having the fridge in the laundry room and making cups of tea on top of the fridge.

It felt like living in Aberdeen again!

The big blow came after enduring seven days of 'Camp Scotland'. Our very understanding rental property manager rang to say how grateful she was that we had been so very patient with her and did we realise that our contract was soon up for renewal? Luckily for us, our landlords liked us in the house so much that they were prepared to offer us another twelve month contract.

Of course, the landlords would be putting up the rent but that because the rental market is so oversubscribed at the moment, it really was a very good deal.

...hmm. I wasn't sure how to react so I thanked her for her kind offer, promised her I'd discuss it with Dave later that day and put the phone down. That's when my ears exploded off of my face, my eyes spun in their sockets and my brain short-circuited with much visible electrical sparkage.

Needless to say, I didn't think it was very fair to put up the rent or not compensate us for the past four months where we've had restricted use of the kitchen. Dave agreed with me but reminded me that seeing as he was phone-phobic it had been previously agreed in our relationship that I would do ALL the telephoning when called upon.

Bugger. Am the least confrontational person in the world (unless drunk). Dave has taught me to argue to an amateur status though so I had to give it a go. Have you ever heard of someone winning an arguement with an estate agent or property manager? It was a toughie.

However, when it came down to it, I was brilliant. I was concise, business like and wouldn't take no for an answer. She tried to put up a fight but I had her cornered and she backed down in a matter of minutes. We have had a full refund of the last two weeks and she's thrown in a cleaner to mop up Mikes mess!

So, Mike moved out last week leaving his handiwork proudly displayed. It's not pretty but I don't care. It's not my house and it's got no chance off falling on my head when I go to make a cuppa.

"One last thing" he said to me as he walked out of my door for the last time. "That possum you heard scratching in the roof? It's a rat!"