Insane Bolt

The elderly lady had not quite mastered opening the front door whilst holding on to the Zimmer Frame. 

I could sympathise entirely having been presented with just the same contraption a few months ago following a leg operation. As it was any embarrassment she might have felt at her temporary infirmity was defused by the sight of me on the doorstep leaning on one of my two usual crutches. 

In that shared experience we bonded, or at least as much as could be expected between a home owner and me, the enemy- the Surveyor- for the buyers. 

The house was a 1930’s era semi detached in a popular seaside town on the Yorkshire Coast. 

Those who had made this their annual family holiday destination for decades were now, upon retirement in later years, the main purchasers of property in that location. If the nearest resort of Bridlington is known as Leeds on Sea then this place could colloquially be known as Bingley Beach, Batley Bay or Castleford Cove. 

Unfortunately the statistic of premature deaths amongst males who had previously worked in the heavy industries that used to dominate the West and South Ridings of Yorkshire was very evident by the outnumbering by widows of their counterparts in the local population of the seaside town. 

By this process the housing market in the town ebbed and flowed. The elderly lady was now selling up having seen a smaller and much more manageable bungalow just down the road. There is always a queue of people seeking to pursue the same senior citizen lifestyle course and the house would be in good demand. 

The house itself was in good condition which was a credit to the owner. 

As well as the age related deterioration of bricks and mortar for property now some 80 plus years old the salt sprays and Siberian weather fronts on this coastal stretch wreak havoc on the watertight and weathertight qualities of even the best built and maintained residence. 

On the basis of these facts and my longstanding experience I can easily predict what defects I will normally encounter with it being a matter of simply ticking them off on my site note sheet. 

Three exposed solid brick external walls of a house just seventy feet from the cliff top and North Sea will always be a bit moist and cold and this was clearly a problem. I had already found a few woodworm flight holes, the usual areas of springy rot affected floorboards and condensation mould. 

However, the main parts of the house were in excellent condition and I struggled to find the usual patches of loose and hollow plaster on internal walls and ceilings, squidgy skirting boards and dodgy, dated domestic services. 

In fact, the interior had the appearance of a much newer house or had been recently and extensively renovated. 

Having made her way with the awkward frame to her high chair the lady told me that she had first moved in with her late husband in 1996. I asked if she had bought it from a builder or developer which could explain the modernisations. 

She said not. 

I mentally worked through the possible reasons for the improved condition. 

Flood, subsidence and storm damage were all possibilities but I had no conclusive proof of such exposure in recent years. The house had not been trashed by bad tenants or hit by stray armaments from a nearby coastal aircraft bombing range. There were certainly cowboy builders in the town, naturally having an affinity for places where there was a predominance of pension and savings rich widows but the standard of workmanship was just too good for rogue traders. 

I was at a loss as to the reason for the extent of refurbishment and so started up a conversation to try to find out why. 

It turns out that ,whilst she was on a trip away, the house had been struck by a bolt of lightning. 

This had caused the old fuse wired consumer unit in the understairs recess to explode. The ferocity was such that fragments of Bakelite from the boxed surround had become embedded in the ceiling in the adjoining living room. 

The power surge had shorted out the television and melted most of the electrical cable runs as they sat in their old metal ducting behind the wall plaster. 

Plugs in sockets had been forcibly ejected causing indentations in wooden furniture and decor.

At the point of strike on the roof a fire had caught hold and burnt through the loft space into the neighbouring house. 

The remedial work under home insurance meant that the returning owners had to spend seven months in alternative accommodation. 

I was astounded to hear this story as in all of my thirty years of working I had not actually come across such a chain of events. 

I am of two minds if I should mention it in my Survey report. Some people are mightily superstitious and understandably sceptical about those who might reassure them with that old proverb that lightning never strikes twice.