My entire life at the moment is consumed by house or work related matters, which I realise is not much fun for readers, and sometimes not much fun for me either.
At some point I will have more fun things to tell you. You may want to go on holiday until I return to form. Send me a postcard.
I would love to go on holiday right now. This is usually a sign that things are getting on top of me. As it is, I do not think we will be going on holiday until at least the next decade, so I have found other forms of relief; eating more biscuits than usual and pinning on Pinterest more than usual.
House updates will now commence.
The last room to be cleaned, our en suite bathroom, still has not been cleaned yet. All my visits since the middle of last week have been fleeting and frantic. I have not had the requisite two hours to chisel away grime. I did however buy some ninja cleaning products today that my friend Claire recommended. I trust her implicitly on these matters. Unlike me, she is not a slattern. She is the opposite of slatternliness. She is like the goddess of cleanliness and order. If she says; ‘Buy this thing, it will napalm the crap out of your bathroom.’ I buy it without hesitation.
I apologise to the environment in advance.
The ground floor of the house, which was lovely and clean, is now full of building equipment and sacks of plastering dust type stuff. I am not sad about this actually. It is all good, and means progress is happening.
We have got rid of all the strange things the last owner left in the loft. This is a great relief to us all. We gave many things to the local charity shop with profuse apologies for the state and randomness of our offerings. We gave many more things to the local tip.
We have run about the house measuring things and assessing things, and saying stuff like: ‘If we put a shelf there is someone going to concuss themselves and bleed to death on our nice, clean floor?’ and: ‘If we put a shelf there, will the wall fall down?’ and other, wise and DIY type things.
We have spent about two hours in B&Q buying sanders and staple guns and bits of plastic piping. I find that in B&Q I am drawn to buy the most peculiar things. I wanted a lump hammer and a glue gun quite desperately. I am not sure what this says about me.
I did not get either.
We have been to see a man about some doors, and he was very nice and surprisingly Welsh for someone who hangs about on Welford Road in Leicester, and he had to get off to the rugby, so we might buy some doors from him on Monday when there will be less rugby in the world. I admired his door furniture.
Which is not something I ever thought I would find myself saying.
Much furniture has been bought. Not all furniture. We still need sofas and arm chairs, but I do now have a CLD (TM) in purple, which I am most happy with. It arrives at the house next week. I shall take pictures and post them as soon as I can. We have also bought several book shelves, many chests of drawers, and a vast wardrobe of Narnian proportions.
Jason is convinced that we will not get this last item up the stairs. I suspect he is right but I swore up and down that he wasn’t, because it is one of the few wardrobes I have ever seen that I actually liked, and he agreed with me, and that never happens, and it was very cheap for a seventy foot long piece of furniture. So we have it, and we will see what happens next week when they deliver it.
We may divorce over this point. I shall keep you posted.
I resisted the glass collecting cabinets, a Georgian settle that we would have bought were it not for the fact that it was about seven feet long and we had nowhere to put it; a desk the size of Yorkshire for the same reason and three blanket chests. I love a good blanket chest. I already have quite a few, but they are an item of furniture I do not think it is possible to live without, unlike wardrobes which I mostly ignore. If I could fit all my belongings into a large wooden chest I would be quite happy.
I also bought a brass rubbing of a medieval lady in a frame that looks like it has been eaten by mice, and which needs a lot of TLC, and a child’s fabric mannequin which has no head. I intend to turn this into a model of Heather Small, a la Miranda. I may also leave it in random places in my house to freak out the neighbours and passers by.
I don’t know which I am more happy with, the mannequin or the CLD (TM).
I am so glad you got the CLD – we most definitely need a picture of you reclining on it, Victorian lady stylee please.
I will. I will practice my languishing. Ha!
Yay for the CLD(TM). You will be able to languish in style once the move is complete – and given the assorted stresses, I should think at least a few days of total collapse will be a necessity
So glad to hear that you have secured some good stuff from the very promising furniture warehouse. After your descriptions, the warehouse has grown in my imagination and now it seems that it must contain every piece of well traveled hard wood furniture that I have ever lusted for.
I have tried an archive search but can’t come up with it — what does CLD(TM) stand for anyway? Something about a piece of furniture to be tragic on?