Some time last Autumn we had a nasty gale that ripped-off one of my uppermost 'tower' ridge tiles, and in doing so also broke a couple of the other flat tiles as it made its way down.
Yesterday morning I felt that I could no longer wait for my roofer, and decided to do the job myself with the assistance of my apprentice Wills. It wasn't a big job, and we were easily capable of the task. Most building work requires no special talent, just a certain amount of effort, enthusiasm, and in this case bravery. It also needed just a few tiles, and a bucket of mortar.
We rigged-up a system that involved a three piece extending ladder, a plastic Cat transporter, and the cushion from an outdoor chair; this was to avoid breaking any more tiles. (If you enlarge the photo, you might just see the Cat box and cushion)
So here I am, a gentleman of a certain age, right at the top of our bloody tower, cementing a tile in place, and praying that I won't fall. It wasn't a pleasant experience, nor was it an unpleasant one, the roof simply had to be fixed.