Paul not Rob

For some bizarre reason, I’ve been calling our plasterer Rob. His name is actually Paul. I’m fairly certain I haven’t called him Rob to his face but I’m equally certain I’ve not called him Paul either. I feel pretty bad because he’s called me Gary a lot.

Still, a rose by any other name and all that…Rob or Paul, he’s done a fantastic job. This morning he plastered the hallway ceiling upstairs. He saved the worst till last.

Our staircase turns 90° a few steps from the top, making it rather difficult to create a flat surface from which to launch an attack on the ceiling. However, Paul not Rob, clearly a master of his trade, managed to bridge the gap with a series of steps and planks with cover sheets and plastic over everything.

I left him to it, heading out to the office. I spent most of the morning making changes to the Talking Newspaper website as well as fixing up our online photo albums (the new portal is here). This is very much a work in progress but I’m gradually getting it all working properly.

Around midday, Paul not Rob came out to the office to say he’d finished and just needed me to cast my eyes over the work to make sure it met with my exacting standards…which it did. Easily.

The bedroom ceilings have now become all mottled, as the wet bits (the chocolate) dry off, leaving behind the dry bits (dirty white). He told me to keep the windows open so the condensation could escape and not to paint it until it’s all turned dirty white.

I praised his work and he left, possibly for Nottingham, depending on the weather and I headed to the shops.

The rest of the afternoon was spent putting everything back in the rooms upstairs, returning it to some sort of normality, particularly for Mirinda’s return at 4:30.

I’m amazed at how quick this has been. Paul only gave us the quote last Thursday and, a week later, it’s completed. The only disruption was missing a day at the Science Museum. It was worth it.

Drying out
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One Response to Paul not Rob

  1. Josephine Cook says:

    Thank goodness you didn’t call him by name, you must be getting as deaf as your dear old mum. love me x

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