Day-z decided I wanted to wake up at 5am today. Tomorrow will be different when I can shut the bedroom door.
And that’s what I spent a good part of the day doing. A simple job, I thought. The holes are all there, the handles and screws all together. What could be difficult? Who knew that these handles have to go on exactly the way they came off or they won’t work?
And, given a 50/50 chance of getting them wrong each time, I figured I’dd get them right 50% of the time. No such luck. The bathroom door was the only one that worked first time. An irritating job that took much longer than it needed to. Still, they all look fantastic against the white gloss doors.
I thought it was going to be a day without workers today but I was wrong. Yesterday I sent Dave the Builder the snag list (a list of outstanding, last minute jobs) and he passed it on to the relevent trades. Subsequently, Rich turned up to go through the decorating items on it. We spent some time going around, with me pointing out things and him nodding energetically. All was well and he said he’d pop over tomorrow to tick them off.
There was an outside chance that I’d be seeing Nicktor tonight, a chance I’d figured had gone when I, unexpectedly, received an email saying he’d pop in on the way to the football (which I can’t go to because of Emma) and we could go to the Albion for an early dinner and a couple of beers. An excellent idea.
He turned up at about 5:30, changed out of his work clothes, giggled, uncharacteristically when I turned on the water feature and generally remarked favourably about the state of the place. The kitchen hadn’t been finished when he was last here and he was impressed with the extra storage I now have.
Shortly after arrival, we wandered down to the Albion, leaving the girls to sit mournfully by the front door waiting for my return. We’ve been trying to leave Emma for longer periods, hoping she’ll eventually get the idea that we’re not always around. Tonight I left them for about an hour. It would have been longer but for the sign outside the Albion that declared that the chef was on holiday and there was no food.
Although disappointed, we settled down to a couple of pints of the always brilliant 6X – always wonderful on tap – and had a jolly good natter about secret men’s business. It’s always nice to spend nattering time with Nicktor, though it’s a shame when he’s not staying. Maybe next time…when I’ve dug the bed out of the rubble upstairs.
In passing we discussed the incorrectly held belief that English beer is served warm. We decided that this rumour has been spread by people who like their beer to taste of nothing. English beer is NOT served warm. It should be served at cellar temperature, which is never warm.
And so, back home to excited dogs and the next in a long line of pre-prepared meals for me and a hapless trip to the Rec for Nicktor where he sadly reported the 3-1 defeat of the Shots to Braintree in a series of gloomy texts.
And to finish…it’s been a while since I posted a video of Molly and her wonderful voice. Here she is singing Desperado by the Eagles.