Up on the roof
I miss climbing. Mrs P and I haven’t been rock climbing for… hang on… change that to ‘since’… since last year! That’s a long time. Too long. This week though I did at least get to use some of my climbing kit and head in the general direction of ‘up.’
Mrs P’s parents (Mr & Mrs J), my in-laws, have a largeish house with a low pitched roof. Said roof, because of its low pitch, has, over the years, collected a lot of moss and other debris, which is causing havoc with the gutters. So, Mr J decided to call some men in. ‘Don’t bother with that,’ I said looking longingly in the direction of ‘up',’ ‘I can do that for you.’ I dashed off to speak to my neighbour, a builder and roofer. I explained the situation. Did I need scaffolding? Can I walk on the particular type of tiles?’ ‘What tools do I need?’ ‘Will I die?’
After a good chat I had the answers to all of my questions as well as a number of horror stories about colleagues who had broken their backs falling off roofs. Undeterred I gathered up my equipment and headed round to the in-law’s house.
I donned my helmet and harness, gathered up my ropes and slings and climbed the first ladder on to the ground floor roof (a good, proper ladder), then I climbed a second ladder to the upper roof (dodgy ladder. Try not to think about it). Once up I attached myself to the chimney and made myself safe. I then spent my time bum shuffling around the roof with a trowel and a wire brush, hurling piles of moss down to the waiting Mr J who would scoop it all up and head in the direction of the compost heap.
Up on the roof while, for some reason, Mr J stands to attention
I was slightly disconcerted when it began to rain, but it didn’t last and the roof dried quickly. I was also treated to a fly-past by the Royal Air Force Aerobatic Team, The Red Arrows. Mr J denied organising it especially for me, but I’m not sure I believe him. Surely my assistance deserves no less?
One of the reasons I volunteered to go up on the roof was to prevent Mr J from doing it himself. A capable man he may be, but he has recently had replacement knee surgery and is perhaps a tad older than your average roofer. I couldn’t possibly say how old he is, but suffice to say that he was born one year after World War 2 started and is therefore old enough to know better.
My cunning plan didn’t entirely work. At one point I looked up (or technically, down) to find that he had climbed up on to the first floor roof (in his sandals!) and was happily sweeping away at the moss. I did of course suggest that this was not a wise thing to do, but he is certainly old enough to make his own decisions, so I left him to it. I confess that I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him firmly back on terra firma.
Job done! (Well, one side of the house at least.)
6 hours later and one side of the house was done. I shall return to clean the front on Monday.
It was a mini adventure that at least got me off the ground. However, it has given me an urge to go climbing. I wonder if Mrs P would like to go? Mrs P?
DISCLAIMER: Don’t try this at home. I am a highly trained idiot and don’t need your demise on my conscience.
Aside: Many years ago, a climber friend of mine (Mr S - You know who you are) was up on his roof repairing the tiles/chimney/something. His wife was in the back garden with their toddler son. Said toddler kept escaping and trying to climb the ladder to see what ‘daddy’ was up to. Mr S would then dash down, pick up his son and return him to the garden along with a few sharp words to his wife to not let him out of the garden. After this had happened a number of times he realised that his wife was clearly too engrossed in what she was doing to stop the escaping little one from heading up the ladder (different times). So, rather than locking said child in the house where he would have lots of access to sharp and/or flamable items, he put a climbing harness on the little chap and hauled him up to the roof. Once up he attached him to the chimney with enough rope that he could scamper around, but not so much that he could fall off. He then got on with what he was doing. Apparently his neighbours were either, ‘lost for words.’ or said, ‘Oh, that [Mr S] is up to his old tricks again.’
DISCLAIMER 2: SERIOUSLY. REALLY DON’T TRY THAT ONE AT HOME!! OR IN FACT ANYWHERE! I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THAT IDIOT TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT CLIMBING.
