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?
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