A rumbling crash echoed through the house. As we're under the flight path into Heathrow we feared the worst, especially as the last time we'd heard that sort of noise it was the sound of a bomb at the BBC echoing across London - and this time it was obviously a lot closer. We couldn't see anything, so I trotted down the stairs to see if I could see anything from the street.
We have a shared hall with the downstairs flat. It's long and narrow. I couldn't see the door at the far end for what looked like smoke. Had the downstairs flat boiler exploded?
Then I looked at the floor. It was covered in rubble.
Then I looked at the ceiling.
Half of it wasn't there.
I opened the front door to let the dust out, and we grabbed the bin liners and brushes. Stuart from the downstairs flat turned up and mucked in, and soon the floor was clear. Next, to deal with the insurance, and to get the builders in to fix the ceiling...