About half an hour later, once the clanging of pots and pans and general splashing had subsided, I realised I could still hear the sound of running water coming from somewhere.
I had no idea what a vast array of ugly old towels were in my possession until I had to fling armfuls of them onto a waterlogged carpet. The bathroom was on its way to becoming a bijou tiled swimming pool, and the warm water lagoon was steadily encroaching across the threshold, making a swamp of the bedroom carpet.
The remainder of Saturday night was devoted to trampling on absorbent fragments of cloth in an attempt to soak up the flood waters. A fan is currently blasting the affected area. These counter-measures are vital. According to the internet, if black mold starts to breed in the carpet I will DIE.
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