Up aloft

The hole to our loft is so small:
It's arms-above-head and then haul
Yourself up (don't get stuck!)
Into cobwebs and muck
And then balance on beams as you crawl.

It's a good job Mr PP and I are both slim. It's tricky getting in and out of our loft, but needs must, to try and discover how and where rain is getting in. It's easy enough to find where it ends up, but where is it actually penetrating before it runs and drips and seeps and pours? This is an old house with an old roof. And we're not so young ourselves! Still, we've narrowed it down. Mr PP balanced on the roof wielding a hose pipe systemically along -- up a few inches -- along again, while I sat in the loft with a torch watching for drips. Fun fun fun. (Not.) Even less fun for Mr PP wobbling around on a high roof when he doesn't like heights ...!

Now we're going to enjoy some fish 'n' chips while we watch Strictly', which (I hope) is recording as I write ...!