We’ve been living in this house for months, now. Finally, I feel like it’s starting to come together after our many settling in ‘issues’.

One issue became apparent during this winter’s first thunderstorm, when I had just sat down on the couch, and was thinking how good it was that I’d finished unpacking and could finally relax. The rain was pelting down. “Gee, that rain’s loud,” I thought.  “Like … really loud. Oh – that would be because it’s raining in HERE!!”

The water was running in right along the big front window. Luckily, the wide old-fashioned window sills contained it long enough for me to grab armfuls of towels and buckets. With the lounge under control, I checked the back room. It was awash – water steadily dripping through about a  third of the ceiling area. I dragged the filing cabinet and cupboard out of the soggy zone, and put out more buckets. Not happy, Jan! Time for another email to the agent.

I’ve since become acquainted with some of the local tradesmen. There’s lovely Daniel the plumber, who has visited three times. He has unclogged the laundry drain, the second toilet and the kitchen sink, and put shiny new tap fittings in the kitchen too.  He’s a nice young man, but I do wish he wouldn’t fit the plumber stereotype and wear his pants so low. It’s a bit disconcerting. Then there’s the roof man, Daniel the Second, who cleaned out the guttering and put a new section of roof right along the back of the house. Hooray! It doesn’t leak any more – so far, anyway. The heating man, who surprisingly was not called Daniel, serviced the ducted heating unit and explained why the heat doesn’t get to a couple of rooms. The design of the ducts under the house is rooted, basically. That’s the technical term. Luckily, the heating works okay in most of the rooms. I’ll just have to live with the bits where it doesn’t.

I’ve become a regular at Spotlight as I bought curtains for most of the rooms. The ones here were either so thin they let the cold in or were tatty and torn. With new curtains up, it’s looking and feeling much cosier. Two trips to Ikea have provided three wardrobes and a badly needed kitchen bench. I’m a whiz with an allen key, but the wardrobes were a big job.

Anyway, one by one, the issues are being de-issued. And, whenever I start to doubt my sanity in choosing this quirky old house, I go and stand in the lounge room, admire its graceful old charm, and take some deep, relaxing breaths. With all my favourite things around me, it’s starting to feel like home.