Is that a Light I See Before Me?

So here we are again, after a short interlude. I seem to have been very busy for the past couple of weeks, but not really getting very much done!  Still, before we commence our thought for the day is 'Be who you are and say what you feel. Because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind'. Not sure who came up with that one, but it's very true for me.  Although I have to say to my cost, openness and honesty have not stood me in very good stead this year. I rather feel that I should have chosen a different set of rules, but I'm hopeless with them as well!  So our song for the day?  Oooh, difficult choice today 'Go Gentle'  maybe, not really cheery enough, 'Holes'? possibly, 'Magnetise'? could be.  I think I'm just going to pick......., hmmmm....., to pick..... (just texting Joe to find out what it's called and who it's by, hang on... any second we'll know .. ) ready? Ellie Goulding 'How long will I love you'.  Actually I think I might change my mind. I think I'll have 'Wings' Little Mix, or maybe 'Riptide'.  Very undecided today, haven't considered all the possibilities yet. Will get back to you on that one. Take you're pick in the mean time!

Anyway, it has been brought to my attention that this blog has wandered away from it's primary mission. I will endeavour to rectify that today by talking to you about sawing.  That's saWing with a 'W', as opposed to sawRing with an 'R' in it. My pronunciation was corrected by someone whose accent I found a little tricky to understand (that will account for my huge misjudgement), and for whom English was his second language. Bit of a cheek! Never mind, back to the sawing (with or without the 'R').

Now, when I require a piece of wood of a certain length and I am faced with a piece of a different, but longer length, I find that measuring and marking the required length is the first step. Then I select a saw (it doesn't have an 'R'). It could be any saw, but most likely it will be the first one that comes to hand. Unless it's a hack saw. Or a mitre saw. Or one with a PPI of more than 8. See you're impressed now with my extensive knowledge of saws.  That is the extent though. There is no more where that came from!  So having selected said saw, I place my misproportioned bit of wood on a stable surface, put my foot on it, or if necessary kneel on it (as if in penitence), position my saw and saw merrily away until I am left with a bit of roughly the desired proportions. There is sometimes some rather heated language to accompany this operation, sometimes I even have to remove some clothing.  But I do usually end up with a satisfactory out come.

This, apparently, is not enough. There is a required technique. A strategy even. (Not dissimilar to the 'strategy' required to play cricket. Wallop the ball as hard as you can and run as if someone undesirable is chasing you, sums up my strategy in this case. Apparently that's not right either, it's a whole lot more subtle than that. Maybe that's why we lose so often. A rethink maybe required).  But I digress, back to the sawing. Seemingly, after having measured everything twice, marked the wood once and checked that everything is the right way round (?), we can begin.  Having placed the wood on a suitable workbench, we introduce the saw to the wood with a gentle rasp (have they tried internet dating I hear you ask!), then we hold the saw as if it were a child.  Firmly enough to guide it, but not firmly enough to cause it to fight against you. Then it glides though the wood, like a knife through butter. Of course you have to be careful not to lay it over (back to the internet dating then!). The outcome? A bit of roughly the right proportions. Anybody else feel that some people have too much time on their hands?

So,  if any of you would like to help me 'repurpose' a cupboard - considerable sawing skills required - let me know. My skills are not up to standard.  I pay a very good day rate, but make awful tea, coffee being my drink of choice!

Back to the job in hand, then. Monday last week I finished painting the attic, cleaned it and shut the door. Then Deb took me out for lunch ( not this Deb, my other friend Deb), so sadly I didn't get much done in the afternoon. Too bad!  Monday evening I had to go to a Peer Review session with Anita. Well! We were celebrating her divorce for an hour beforehand.  As many of you know, half a glass of wine and I'm anybody's. Consequently we didn't get an awful lot out of the learning experience. Wine really is NOT recommended beforehand, especially when trying to impress others with your professionalism and subject knowledge. Least said soonest mended I feel.  But the attic looks great!

Tuesday was work, I believe. Then Wednesday I spent most of the day laying flat on my back in the bathroom with Chris the builder. Why? We were putting the shower tray in.  There has to be a simpler way. Still it's done now. So is all the tiling in there.  And the walls and ceilng have been painted. The lights have been fitted and Chris the plumber is coming tomorrow (7.30 groan) to finish off.  Then the bathroom is done! Hurrah!

What else? I've filled and sanded all the walls in the front bedroom, and given it its first coat of paint, so  tomorrow I'll top coat that. So we're moving on!  John demolished the back porch so that the new one can go up.  The plasterers have finished completely now, and the electrician has done most of the second fix.  So just the landings and downstairs now. And the garden and the painting outside. And I've to reconnect the water to the sheds.  The very bad cutting off type behaviour regarding next doors water also resulted in a loss of supply to our outside loo.  Teach me to be so rash!  Not much left to do then!

This week I don't seem to have achieved much. On Wednesday I did the Proud Mother bit, in that I went to Sheffield for Thoms' graduation. Lovely day, good lunch, long ceremony and .... I got to see Harry Styles in the flesh (so to speak).  I have to say I was a little underwhelmed, but my boy did good!

Today I've been ferrying Joe around. We've had to be back to the knee man.  Now Joe has to have an MRI scan to try to find out what is going on.  We also had a rather illuminating visit to a tattoo parlour. Thankfully it was very clean, man, and smelled of TCP, man. Why the chappie with rather large hoops in his ears, but no sign of a tattoo himself, felt the need to keep calling me 'man' I will never know. He didn't even look as if he came from the Caribbean and his accent was otherwise distinctly East Midlands, man.  Did I succumb to the lure of the tattoo? Well you'll just have to wonder! Joe is booked in for January.  The debate over the size and design continues. Anyone wishing to contribute with advice, please say your piece.

What else to tell you? The police have given up trying to find the tools that were stolen. They very kindly wrote to tell me. I also had a very poor experience at parents evening with Alf.  He now has a Saturday morning detention (at school) for his efforts (or lack thereof).

Have any of you seen the George Clarke programme on Channel 4?  Well I love it ! I have always had a 'thing' for tree houses, so would love to go to the tree hotel in Sweden (should anyone wish to offer to take me!). Or better still, anyone wanting to help me build a tree house, preferably near a lake, or loch or some sort of water so that it could hang impossibly out over the water and just be a fabulous fantastical place, let me know. Always up for an adventure!

Now don't forget, our programme goes out next Friday 22nd 11am Channel 4. I am VERY apprehensive now, having seen the others. I think ours will be really boring and we'll look completely stupid. I think they've shown clips of every other programme in the series apart from ours, so that must mean that ours is dreadful and that the transformation was less than impressive. Perhaps we need to congratulate them on their acting skills, in persuading us that we were any good. Perhaps a BAFTA is in the offing.  Still we shouldn't judge too soon. We must wait and see. This maybe the last you hear from me, my shame will be too great.

So that's all for today. I'm sure it's quite enough, if you've made it this far.  The song for the day? I think  'The Gambler' might be the best bet!  Hahhah!!

Over the hump ...

So here we are again, and it's not raining!  So our thought for the day, 'With a brave heart, anything is possible' and our song, well again you have a choice. Either 'I like the way you move' (Bodyrockers, or possibly Bodysnatchers, can't remember which) or 'Blurred lines' ( Robin Thicke and somebody else).  Take your pick, or even both.  I nearly picked Gary Barlow, 'Let me go', but I didn't like the sentiment even though I like the tune. In my experience whenever anyone says 'I know what's best for you' it's actually code for 'you're going to really dislike this, but it suits me just fine so bugger you'.  It's on  par with 'It's character building'. That's code for ' it's hideous, but it's going to happen anyway and the less you moan the sooner it will be over'. Shall we carry on now?

So  we've entered the not very exciting phase of the build, which involves copious quantities of paint. I've painted the attic, no mean feat I might add.  Deb and I had to do it in relay, and involve several Heath Robinson type contraptions to reach the highest, most inaccessible places. Along with daring acrobatic moves and general inventiveness. And I'm sure that you're all au fait with our total disregard for Elivin Safety by now.  Still it looks great now the top coat in on.  One room down!

Thomas (can I remind you all that I WAS a child bride) came home for half term, so was quickly pressed into action.  He has first-coated two ceilings and most of the walls of the front bedroom.   It turns out that there are two distinct methods of painting.  Slow and clean, versus quick and dirty.  No prizes for guessing which is who's preferred method!!

Yes, I have lost even more weight, but at least my hair has grown back after the last little incident with the Very Big Scissors.  Seemingly it's not a good idea to cut your own hair whilst leaning your head to one side.  It tends to end up a bit lopsided. I did try to pass it off as a trendy style, but nobody believed me.   Still it's nearly down to my waist now, so I will have to address it again soon.  No I don't dye it, and yes I do know that it's very passée to have long hair beyond a certain age.  Do I care? No, not at all.  Yes, that is, indeed, a bath in the kitchen. Just the place you'd expect to find one. It's a new trend. It beats the whole loo-in-the-bedroom-with-no-door-but-very-large-extractor-fan trend hands down, don't you think?!  It refuses to leave the building until the porch has been demolished.  That's next weeks job.

The bathroom walls and ceiling have also been painted, and Chris has laid the floor tiles. Fab, eh?  John is working on the last window, so we are getting there. it's just not wildly exciting just now.

I have to say that the kitchen has/is causing me some degree of angst. How to arrange it, what style, what colour? As many of you know, my mantra is 'if in doubt paint it black'. Deb's not overly keen on that.  I also suggested it for the new bath. That was frowned on as well. We shall see.

On the subject of painting, Joe (child bride remember) has decided he wants a tattoo.  I have tried all the usual discouraging tactics.  It'll be painful.  It'll fade. It may look great now, but can you imagine what it will look like on an old, wrinkly man standing in his saggy underpants?  All to no avail.  Apparently pain isn't an issue.  This is the child that had the car accident, who said he never wanted to feel pain again, and that the IV drip had put him off needles for life.  Is it a small tattoo, I hear you ask?  This is what he has chosen

I'm not sure small is the operative word.  What do you think?  As there is only one man I know with a tattoo, and he is currently in Communicado, there is no one I can ask with this sort of experience to discuss it with Joe.  Comunicado, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a small island off the coast of South America, not far from the Virgin Islands.  I am reliably informed that there are no virgins left there. There is also no mobile signal either, seemingly.  In some ways I can see the attraction of a tattoo. Not one as big as this though. For example, I would much prefer to get a tattoo than get married again.  But each to their own.  I shall remind Joe of the pain issue just after the tattooist has started! I just hope it doesn't say something like 'this is all that's holding my leg on' in maori! Or, 'it's the other one that's real, this is my spare'. Let's hope they don't misspell whatever it does say!

I have actually had to go into work this week, if only to prove that I can do a proper job.  A myth that was dispelled seconds after my first patient took a seat.  If you have a nervous disposition, or were shocked in anyway by last weeks' revelations about my underwear, then you need to turn away now.  I suggest going to lie down in a darkened room. It will all be over soon.

The lady seemed perfectly nice. Quite intelligent. Unassuming. Nothing to mark her out.  Then she informed me that she had a genital cataract. I was a little taken aback. I am only a mere optician. That isn't my area of speciality (I'm not actually sure I've got one).  After I had recovered myself, and checked my hearing, I had the overwhelming desire to laugh.  I don't know how I got through the test.  I was almost crying when it was over.  I even had to reassure her that it wasn't catching, and that she couldn't pass it on to her husband, but could possibly to her children. That caused much angst and gnashing of teeth.  For those of you who are quite alarmed and confused at this point, but unsurprised by my unsympathetic response, I should perhaps say that I'm fairly confident that she actually meant CONgenital cataract. Which is something else entirely. I do actually know something about them.  I think I’ve got the full collection now for the ‘Daft Things to Say at the Opticians’ list.  This one tops the list though, along with  ‘Take a seat/ Where should I take it?’; ‘Oooh, the big black chair? Is it an electric chair?’ (sadly not) ; ‘I’ve got a stigma’(is that to go with the chip on your shoulder?) and ‘My stigmata make it difficult to get on with new glasses’ (let me get you a tissue for that).  I'm not sure that I'm cut out to be an optician.  Luckily I have several other fallback plans.

Still back to the tale, for those of you in the darkened room, you can come out now.

I'm not actually sure that I am a planner. More of a plotter I feel.  I know where I want to get to, and just assume that the minor details will fall into place along the way.  That way you're never disappointed that any plans you may have made have gone awry.  I spoke to Mat this week, you know from the telly.  Apparently  the thing that made Susie and I 'good value', in TV terms, is that we didn't have a plan. Or certainly there was no evidence of one.  I am a little unsure what 'good value' in this context actually means, but it is a bit late to worry about it as the transmission date is 22nd November, 11am Channel 4. Beat my Build.  I'm not sure that 'looking forward' to it is the exact phrase I would use at this moment in time.  Teach me to be so gung-ho, to look before I leap etc, and all those other boring old truisms that are really code for sit on your backside and don't do anything.  To ask me to stop thinking and dreaming and plotting is like asking the rain to stop falling out of the sky ( and I have asked this week).  It's what makes me, me. So lump it or like it, I am the proverbial bad penny, but at least I always have a tale to tell!

Until next time! Do you have your next adventure lurking somewhere?!!  I rather fancy Salsa dancing, or possibly rock climbing. Any one up for it?