Autumn projects

They are not that much different from the spring and summer ones.

I have been loathe to show you the building work as they are stalled.

And every shot that I take shows you something that really irks me. The courtyard is hilariously messy and unchanged.

The deck has stacks of ‘stuff’. And no balustrade. There is a delay in delivering the last of the cladding for the bread oven.

The scaffolding is down on the outside. That’s progress.

And we love the cladding.

When you see the outside you may gaze on at the work.

Sadly I just see the fence that needs fixing. And the bloomin’ downpipes that are not connected to their water butts. A very priapic shot.

The plumber promised to come by in early July. It is now mid October. He does that clever trick of not answering his phone or emails which is beyond unprofessional. In rural areas, beggars can’t be choosers I suppose. But I wonder if I can delay paying his bill by three months too. Somehow I think the irony will be lost on him.

We still don’t have a laundry. Pipes are not shifted…. a washing machine not installed. Shelving not built.

But rumours has it tomorrow is the day. The plumber may arrive. Forgive me for not holding my breath. I may even withhold coffee.

Oh and we still haven’t a front door.

It was a tad chilly this past weekend and Monday when I threw myself at that scaffolding tower and painted the ceiling and all the walls of the extension.

It was so cheering to have that job off my To Do list. Even if I have painter’s neck from reaching above my head for two and a half days. Luckily I have two favourite paintbrushes which did the deed.

Once all the edges of the laundry room are sorted I will fling myself in there next. The walls in that little room are way over three metres high… and I ran out of my favourite paint. Arggghhh. I’ll have to sort that problem later this week.

But I’ll cheer up. There is bound to be progress one day.

And I can distract myself with sorting all the dahlias that fell over in my absence.

I have snatched some of the more garish blooms that fell into a heap of petals; like a dancer collapsing to the ground with all her tutu folds beneath her.