I mentioned sleeping in Wink’s spare room on Friday night. Here’s the reason.

I got home from a lecture on English Delftware, followed by lunch, on Friday afternoon. There was a beeping noise somewhere in the house. A single beep that I timed to every 1 minute and 15 seconds. It was not loud, but it was insistent and I recognised it as a warning sound that a battery was running low. There were three options that I could think of – the smoke alarms, the carbon monoxide alarm (the smoke alarms also have that warning but this is a standalone one near the woodburner) and the landline phone. I checked and couldn’t find anything awry. The upstairs smoke alarm wasn’t there and I vaguely remembered it beeping and my taking it down to replace the battery, but never putting it back. No idea where I’d put it.

All the same, I tracked the sound down to where the smoke alarm used to be, in the landing ceiling. I checked from every room in the house and was brought back there, even from the other end of the landing. I removed the housing of the alarm, just in case there was something there, though I knew there wasn’t. I went up to the attic above, where I knew there was nothing, just in case.

I gave up. I’d had a busy day, it was icy cold and I lost heart. I invited myself to spend the night in Wink’s house, because it would be impossible to sleep within earshot of the beep. The only possible room was cold, too cold even for me.

I was busy with various things on Saturday, but finally went upstairs to track down the source of the beep. I muttered Sherlock Holmes’ words about eliminating the impossible. There was an explanation. i checked the cupboard on the landing, the bookcase, the chest of drawers in the nearest bedroom, the bathroom – though i knew all were innocent. Finally, I moved the linen cupboard. You’re way ahead of me. Evidently, I’d managed to remove the damn detector but I had, though I’d forgotten this bit. put in a new battery and put it on the cupboard because screwing it into the ceiling is such a nuisance. Someone, not me, dusted the cupboard with a broom or something and didn’t investigate when it slipped down behind. From the side, there wasn’t room for it, but the Tudor wall is very uneven and there just happened to be enough space for it to slip down a few inches.

I’ve replaced the battery and put it on the bookcase where I can see it. Bloody thing. I’m going to get someone tall to remove the downstairs one from the highest ceiling in the entire house, and I’ll put that in a better place too. That will have the bonus that, if anyone ever burns the toast and sets off the alarm, it can be quickly moved away from the smoke. I know it has to be loud, but getting a ladder from the shed, setting it up and climbing towards an ear-splitting noise is one of life’s tortures and I’d rather not go through that again. I will still have warning alarms, just useful ones.

At least it wasn’t as bad as our first smoke alarms, which didn’t have replaceable batteries and which couldn’t be switched off. The warning there was a low battery was as loud as the alarm, just not continuous. I had to drown them in a bucket of water.