Let me introduce you to my 130 year old house. I've grown to love every corner of it (believe me with all those crazy angles, there is a lot of corners). It is full of character, from it's hand hewn logs, to it's vintage red metal kitchen cabinets (they used to be pink). It's had more additions then most my children have had birthdays, and with each of those additions comes a bit more character, and even some imperfections. Some of those imperfections (maybe not the plumbing imperfection) are like art, old holes in logs, exposed lathe and plaster, even a couple of old initials carved into one wall, are like art in my eyes. It's how my house tells a story, showing it's growth and changes in the only way that it can.
Often I find treasures that have some imperfections, some of them I fix, others I let be, it tells a story, more of a mystery tale, of what it used to be.
I don't know what the hole is from on the top, and I don't know if I'll get to fixing it or not, but either way, it's nothing a book, and a couple of great candle holders can't fix.