“Mr Dear is bent over the cistern of the downstairs lavatory. This is perhaps not the most promising start to a page of adventure and entertainment, but I like to give you an accurate account of life at Dear Towers: warts, cisterns and all.
To be strictly accurate, he is peering into the space – about the size of a large letter box – that the builder kindly left for fiddling with the cistern. And he is wondering how to get to the bits inside.
Very professional: ‘There is no cause for alarm. We have now established communication with the flush valve, and we fully expect to gain entry within the next few minutes.’
