Monthly Archives: September 2007

Noah

I am just recovering. Today winter has officially begun. It started out a lovely day. I was tempted to neglect my preparation for work in favour of doing a bit of gardening and had just overcome that impulse when my friend M rang and said, “Looking at the weather reports, I am guessing that this might be our last opportunity for a while to enjoy the summer sunshine, so let’s abandon the work and go out for the afternoon”. Famous last words. During our afternoon the weather went from Summer, to Autumn, to Winter in the space of three hours.

And tonight we have torrential rain. This is irritating at the best of times. When it’s in your hallway, it is slightly less convenient! Of all the days during the building work for it to decide to pour with rain, I think the day when one has only half a roof is probably the least convenient. My poor (but wonderful) project manager was telephoned to drag him away from his evening meal (poor fellow even had to pay for a taxi because he’d had a drink with his meal) and was sent up on the roof with a torch to rectify the situation. Meanwhile I was balanced on a stepladder with a torch in one hand and a bucket in the other, trying to stem the flow. We were 99% successful, though I shall spend most of the night listening for the ominous drip which the bucket has been left to catch… hopefully.

Meanwhile, some pictures of sunnier days:

Our new bathroom The new bathroom

Subtle but nice

Blue gazebo

Supervisory status

A bit of a suntrap, this.
The supervisor declares himself well pleased with the work and takes a few moments’ rest.

This was once my garden
This was once my back garden!

By the way, my spasmodic posting is due at present to my computer being at death’s door and refusing to cooperate with me. 9 times out of 10 when I try to use it, it cuts me off summarily, or declares itself indignant at being asked to work at all when it is obviously quite busy doing other things which are none of my business. As I cannot afford another one unless I sell one of the children, I shall have to work on exercising my God-given gift of patience….

Miscommunication

When I picked Tiddles up from the stables last week, we talked about the comparative cost of buying and running a car against buying and keeping a horse and how both entailed far far more outlay than is at first evident. I have promised to pay for his driving lessons, as long as I judge him to be at a level of maturity for them to be a good investment, and to buy his first car in order to prevent him getting something on its last wheels.

After a moment’s thought, he launched into the following conversation:

T: I think the best thing is to save up and get a mini.
S: Why a mini?
T: M at the stables says you can get a mini for around £200
S: You don’t want a £200 mini!
T: It sounds a real bargain to me. Far cheaper than I’d expected.
S: Yes, my love, but this is one time when it’s a mistake to go for something too cheap. It’s worth spending a bit more than £200.
T: Why?
S: Well, if you only buy something cheap, you’ll end up paying more in the long run. It’s far more likely to break down.
T: Minis don’t break down!
S: Oh they do. Even the most reliable minis need a lot of maintenance and you start having to pay out a lot money once they start getting older. That’s why they’re so cheap.
T: But minis are really strong, and £200 is a good price.
S: No, I’d put my foot down because I really wouldn’t be happy for you to have something for £200. You’d regret it the first time it broke down and you had to pay for repairs.
T: Mum, you don’t have to pay for repairs to minis. I’d pay out for a proper car, but a mini is just as healthy as any bigger horse and £200 for a Shetland pony is far less than I’d have thought it would cost.

Sorry to disappoint

Birdie, sadly I dare not take a photo of the thighs (rather lovely though they were) as the workmen on the scaffolding aren’t quite as approachable as the groundsmen and their sense of humour isn’t quite as well developed as their thigh muscles, alas. Still, they seem to be doing a good job so I can’t really complain that they’re not as much fun as the others, can I? Can I?

Anyway, this was the view as I set out this morning..

Light and airy roof!

Spot the difference

A T-shirt to dye for

Reading one of Pants’ recent blog entries reminded me that Smudgelet still hasn’t finished writing his letter to the manager of the England football team.

Dear Sir,

In these days of emancipation, I think it is shocking that the football profession does not do more to promote the interest of girls as well as boys in the sport of football. After all, girls are good at football and can get just as enthusiastic about it as boys. I think that you should make a positive move to show that the England football team are in touch with their feminine side and that there’s nothing whatsoever wrong with the colour pink for girls or for boys. The best way forward is to change the England strip so that the current white T-shirt is replaced with a pink one.

Either that or think of a method to stop my mum washing my England T-shirts in with the reds.

Going up!

So, this was last week. You’ll have to wait for later today for this week. Suffice to say that this morning I walked out of my front door to be greeted by two rather magnificent pairs of muscly and tanned (mmmm) thighs….

Going up

Off now to go to the bank, drink coffee, and explain to Honorary Auntie M why I want to resign.

A tiny bit of sad news

Ratty the Gerbil is no more.
I’m quite sad actually – he was a lovely little thing and brought Dad such happiness too. Mousie looks a bit lost without him. He’ll miss having his twin brother to curl up with as he sleeps.. a good excuse for me to have to take him out of his cage and play with him. (I’m a big kid really). But at least Ratty doesn’t have to suffer any more of the indignities of being bathed and squirted with antibiotic and mauled around by the vet.
I hope God has a little corner of heaven reserved for small fluffy creatures. 🙂

I have been very remiss

I love that word “remiss”. I shall have to go and look it up in the dictionary now and see what precisely it means because, while I know precisely what it means, I don’t know exactly how I’d define it, if you know what I mean. How’s that for a confusing opening sentence?

I have, however, been very remiss in keeping my blog up to date and, more precisely, in keeping you abreast of progress with the enlargification of my tiny (and somewhat over-populated) home. I shall begin to put that right forthwith (another good word) by posting the photos I took last week and by going out to take some more before the workmen arrive.

Before I do, though, you may be interested to know that I am still a bit ouchy. A second visit to the dentist had me on more antibiotics and the declaration that the source of the pain was three simultaneous small problems joining forces. A bit of infection under one tooth at the top which was to be treated with antibiotics, intense sensitivity in the newly-filled tooth which is apparently normal and would wear off after… ooooh, about four weeks, and some internal damage done to the muscle of my jaw when he did the injection and I winced at precisely the wrong moment, thus causing the needle to rip through the muscle which was to be treated with a constant supply of painkillers and a huge chunk of patience. Now the antibiotics have done their trick, the four weeks is nearly over and I can eat icecream without literally screaming, and I have a nice supply of painkillers (and a small amount of patience left).

But enough moaning….

A good day's work

Charlie inspects the 2-metre-deep hole which, due to the positioning of the drain, the electric supply and the water main, had do be dug out by hand.

All done

The digger has a good rest while they fill the massive trench with concrete. One thing is for certain, come hell or high water, those foundations aint goin’ nowhere!

Right, now to find my camera and get the next batch done, see if you can spot the difference.