The end is nigh

The detritus in the bathtub awaiting my return from vacation prompted me to contact my landlord's letting agent. My landlord is a sweetie and a leaseholder, just like me. The freeholder of this property is ruthlessly money-grabbing, as freeholders of multi-lease properties have an unfortunate tendency to be. My landlord has been very distressed by the whole pigeon situation; it's not his responsibility but he doesn't want me to suffer and so for the last few months he has been attempting to battle with the elusive freeholder, without much success as far as I can tell.

Happily, the Fitness for Human Habitation Act (2019) was written into law just 3½ weeks before I first made contact with the freeholder's representative, who has completely ignored me, but my landlord's agent has, at my request, cited that legislation to the freeholder's agent and whoosh! We're off!

Freeholder's agent popped round after work today to take a peek for himself. Smart enough, he opened the hatch only a smidgen to assess the problem. Had he gone the whole hog I would have climbed the steps myself and blipped an image of the colony in the rafters, but on the whole I was glad he didn't deem it necessary.

While I am at work on Tuesday my upstairs neighbours will be evicted, their door closed and I will never again be gently woken by pigeons cooing softly just before daybreak, only a foot or two above my pillow.

Very shortly after that a team of goblins will arrive to mine the guano and polish the rafters. Hopefully I will not experience wiggly little bloodsuckers boring their way down through the plaster ceiling into my living accommodation to feast on me.

Well that's the plan anyway.