Today did not get off to a good start. The phone rang at ten, and a voice at the other end said, ‘Why aren’t you here advising students?’ To which the only answer was, ‘because it’s the first I’ve heard of it’. I discovered only yesterday that in the throes of getting the Baroque Book away, I had forgotten to re-register for computer services. Thus I had not received various administrators’ emails, among them, the ones telling me I was advising, who, where, when, and all the rest of it. Silence had been taken for general slackness, etc. etc. etc. I’d immediately put getting re-registered in train, but this is not an instant process, and I was certainly not expecting an immediate crisis to break as a result. The bureacracy seem rather un-worried about it, which is at least is something, and the whole emergency is unravelling, with the not inconsiderable aid of the Professor of French who, I venture to predict, will go straight to Heaven when her time comes like a cork from a champagne bottle (vintage, of course). Anyway, all this was crunching along causing a fair amount of strife when the Professor chanced to glance into the dining room en route from the kitchen back to his study, and observed that both the floor and the dining room table were covered in water. Keith the Plumber (another saint in human form) tipped up within an hour or so and started investigating. My idea of the causality was that because the cooker is hors de combat, we have had to turn up the Rayburn & use that, so we had put a strain on the pipes; Keith, who was here yesterday changing the UV filter, thought that since the water pressure had increased considerably after he’d done the filter, it was maybe that. We were both wrong. The pipe out of the sink in our bathroom had quite unaccountably sheared at the join, though there was no way that any kind of extra pressure could have been put on it of any kind. This must have happened within about the last twelve hours, for absolutely no reason anyone can detect, and because caught so quickly, has done little damage. However, by this time I had started going down with a cold out of sheer psychology. Twenty minutes ago, the Professor came in from walking the dogs having somehow chipped a molar, and it just so happens that the Turra dentists’ premises are out of commission after a flood. Should we, do you think, be looking for an exorcist? What, O Tropical Godpapa, do bomos cost, and will they prescribe long-distance?