Man-With-Ladder

Landlord called round this morning, as agreed over the phone last night. He brought with him Man-With-Ladder. MWL had been told he was required to remove a birds' nest, but he is blessed with fully functioning hearing and could tell immediately we weren't talking about a little round thing made of twigs containing a pair of birds and a clutch of chicks, he could tell we were talking about a decent-size colony. He was sceptical when I said I estimated the population to be over 100 but perhaps not more than 250 birds, he wanted to see for himself. I asked if he had a battery drill. He did. In that case, I said, if you would be so kind as to fetch that in order to better fix my handles to the underside of the hatch, then you may open the hatch, but you may not open the hatch until there is some improvement in the means with which to close it.
Fair enough, and off he went to fetch battery drill.

Now my intention had been to remove a couple of screws, drill the holes a bit deeper, replace those screws and repeat until all four handles were fixed tightly to the underside of the hatch, each handle having four screws. But no, MWL had a better idea, just switch the screwdriver onto hammer action and give it some welly. At least I now have a better understanding of what calibre handyman MWL actually is. Anyway, the result is that three out of four handles are now fixed firm, probably never to be removed, given the damage caused to the Pozidriv slots, but that isn't my problem. One handle remains a bit wiggly because the screws have not reached their full depth. Given that these are self-tapping screws I cannot but help but wonder what species of timber the hatch is made from.

Be that as it may, I then allowed MWL to climb his ladder and open the hatch. I did warn him that there would be a mountain of dust, feathers and shit showering down upon him and he was rather sorry not to have brought a hat. I did remove my coats from the hallway and closed as many doors as can be closed. I also rather kindly asked him if he had a dust-mask about his person. Sadly no.

Despite my lucid description of the state of the loft, his scepticism was winning until, having opened the hatch a smidgin, twenty birds flew past his head and out through their personal front door.

Thereafter followed a sensible and adult conversation about what should happen next and who is responsible. MWL fully accepted that the sound of cooing from above is rather soothing, as well as the fact that shutting out the pigeons but doing nothing more is a recipe for disaster. He also agreed that in all probability, the loft above the flat does not belong to my landlord.

The hatch was closed as well as can be achieved. I volunteered to clean up all the crap on the carpet (yet again) and MWL donated the little sturdy sack he had brought along with him. I suggested that I could paint the hatch closed again so that it was in the same state it was when I took occupancy but no! Landlord wants to return with a camera. I didn't offer mine.

After that the sun shone into an empty room across the street and then I returned to Rochester in order to avail myself of some rather funky leg-wear I had spotted yesterday at a stall in the castle grounds. There were fewer stick-whackers and a greater profusion of SteamPunk poseurs but my camera battery was at home on charge, having whimpered at me plaintively.