I do the shopping, my wife sniffs out dry rot. A role rejig might be in order
My wife comes into the room. She moves towards the window. She sniffs the air and announces: "I think I smell something. I think it's dry rot."
I know better than to get involved. I see an eternity of tradesmen, estimates and consultations stretching before me. I decide to say as little as possible.
"Oh?" I say.