13 September: Little blue jobs

Perhaps it's all the rain we've had lately that is creating so many home-maintenance issues.

No sooner were we home from holiday than our next-door neighbour came to tell us that our water overflow pipe had been dripping all week. The ball valve on the inlet from the rising main to the large cold water tank in the loft was not working properly to cut off the incoming water.

DH hesitated to try a DIY repair, lacking the right tools and the confidence to tackle a task that might so easily go horribly, dramatically, and expensively wrong. So we got a plumber to do it - 15 minutes including making out the invoice, and it's all OK again.

Then the little light in the cooker hood blew when I switched it on. The fuse must have blown, as the fan was also out of action. But for several days we couldn't find the d*mned fuse. Not in the fuse-box, not with the cooker fuse, not in the cupboards next to the cooker (though we did find the switch for the hob pilot lights).

Then it came to light, in a manner of speaking. Above the cupboards is a trim which conceals some extra lights, several large spiders, and a huge amount of dust. Over the cooker hood , behind the plastic pipe that takes the extracted air to the outside, is a fluorescent tube. Behind this, and not visible at all, only located by touch, is the socket and switch for the cooker hood, with a fused plug! Once DH found it (and I never noticed it when I painted that bit of wall recently), it only took a few moments to change the fuse. (Spare fuses live with the spare light bulbs in the Jolly Useful Box - every home should have one.)

And now the kitchen roller blind has begun to fall down, about every third time we try to raise the blind. It is of course necessary to climb into the sink to reach the kitchen window, and simultaneously locating both ends of the 6 foot blind in the plastic supports is not easy, especially when the first attempt usually results in the winding mechanism being upside down, requiring a second attempt; by then the arms are failing, and the knees and back are protesting at the crouched and twisted position in the sink/on the worktop/on the windowsill. And all this in the pyjamas - the neighbours in the kitchen opposite have probably videoed the performance for UTube.

The house is 6 years old. I'm certain I've lived for many more years in previous houses without the fixtures and fittings needing so many repairs and replacements. Is it a case of "Fings Ain't Wot They Used To Be", or just chance?