I'm in pedant mode
I'm in pedant mode
Many thanks for all the advice. The dripping sound is only noticeable when the heating is on and I just assumed that if it was expansion it would stop after a while but that doesn't seem to happen. I guess I can live with it for now if I know the ceiling isn't about to fall in.
John
yes i did. sad isn't it?
R
No, I'm impressed!
er - what does it mean?
Mary
Thus spake John ( snipped-for-privacy@lineone.net) unto the assembled multitudes:
I would have thought if it's really something dripping, you'd have seen signs of it by now, such as a wet patch on the ceiling (sic). You wouldn't hear a drip from a pipe upstairs anyway. It's probably a pipe in a tight fight creating the noise, as it expands and contracts. If however it's rubbing up against something, that might cause you problems in future when the pipe wears through from all the daily rubbing...
Thus spake Mary Fisher ( snipped-for-privacy@zetnet.co.uk) unto the assembled multitudes:
It sounds to me like a lyric from a Yes album...
Oh. I bow to your greater experience :-)
Mary
Thus spake Mary Fisher ( snipped-for-privacy@zetnet.co.uk) unto the assembled multitudes:
"A man conceived a moment's answers to the dream. Staying the flowers daily sensing all the themes. As a foundation left to create the spiral aim, A movement regained and regarded both the same, All complete in the sight of seeds of life with you."
Sort of a bit like that...
I still don't understand it ... :-(
Mary
Thus spake Mary Fisher ( snipped-for-privacy@zetnet.co.uk) unto the assembled multitudes:
Ah, but you're missing the point, slightly.
But never mind, we're here to help with a dripping sound, not explore the hidden shallows of Yes song lyrics...
In message , snipped-for-privacy@DENTURESsussex.ac.uk writes
Or the depths of topographical oceans
No one ever did. It was Art apparently. No one understands Art: The secret is to pretend you do, convincingly..
Phew!
>Thus spake The Natural Philosopher ( snipped-for-privacy@b.c) unto the assembled multitudes:
Reminds me of when I stayed in a B&B in a village in the Spanish Pyrenees, on a bird-watching holiday back in the early 1990s. The place was run by a couple of British artists and the B&B was mostly patronised by those of a similar persuasion. In my room there was a "painting" which consisted of something like solid light blue on the top two-thirds, a thick red line across, and a dark-blue bottom third. I've probably got the colours wrong but you get the idea. One day out of genuine curiosity I asked the proprietor what the painting was about. "Oh," he said in a rather snobbish, dismissive tone, "you'd have to go to art school to understand that." Ever since, I have regarded "art" like this as pretentious $h1t.
Well a painting like that is usually entitled something like 'is this art' or somesuch.
I like Tracy Emmin. I can understand her bedroom. Mine was like that once.
When No.1son went to uni (He did IT) one of his friends being a bit of an artist with good exam results applied to the art dept of the local uni and they said he couldn't possibly go to art college straight from school no matter how good he was as "He hadn't suffered enough yet"
DG
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