My upstairs neighbours are terribly nice, but too naive to be allowed to renovate their flat in peace.
The two brothers in their twenties bought the apartment together and are doing it up, I suppose, because they hope to sell and divide the spoils so they can buy one flat each. Such are the struggles of the younger generation to get on the housing ladder, and their efforts are laudable. They are young, idealistic and full of enthusiasm.
However, it would be much easier for all of us if they would listen to me when I try to explain to them that doom lies around every corner and nothing is more certain than that things can always get worse. Midway through their renovations, the brothers are still labouring under the misapprehension that the plumbing in our turn-of-the-century building is an inanimate object.
I have told them time and time again that the plumbing is a malevolent, scheming entity, intent on wreaking as much havoc as it can.
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in