The house has been crumbling with loneliness

while the Man and I have been away these last two years. I've been trying to attend to some of the issues and earlier this year I turned my attention to our very sad laundry room. I asked a builder to take away the remaining tilework, remove the radiator, take up the tiles, lay a concrete floor and set up a new worktop and shelving. There was the usual game - he said he'd come in April, finally making an appearance  in June - perfectly timed for me to progress from being fed up to sheer gratitude that he arrived at all. His work was mostly great - except for the bit about the floor. I'd asked for polished concrete but builder-man hastily dumped some screed (not quite enough) and left it looking like lumpy cookie dough. I arrived home before the floor was dry and spent several hours scraping down the lumps, I've painted it with a bold design in the hope that the uneven surface is disguised. The room was dark and dingy with a single tiny window but my cunningly placed mirrors have amplified the light - and do you like my jolly appliance-hiding curtains?

Manure

7th March
For the filming there’s a real sense of urgency as spring is rushing in and there’s so much to get done. These projects feel like an obstacle race as one emergency looms up after another:

On Wednesday we carried all the filming equipment into the new studio, it was a little dusty so we pushed a broom over it, but it became dustier and then it seemed as though the floor was dissolving back into powder which sent us into a major panic, we finally calmed down sufficiently to call the Tall Builder who’d laid the floor, he came and painted it with PVA which seems to have stabilised it.

There’s considerable tension because we’ve run out of money again and can’t get the next tranche of funds until April and the Big Controller’s new financial year

We can only get one computer to connect to the internet and we’re all fighting over it. There’s emailing and ordering to be done online, the Camera Boys, having left behind their partners, want to spend the evenings Skyping - so no surfing for me.

My immediate job is to prepare the garden for planting. I went to see my neighbour and gardener-extraordinaire M. Bert (the man who showed me round this place when I first came to look at it.) His illness is progressing, his wife watches him anxiously while we chat about cabbages.

I’m off to a stableyard now to fill the car with horse manure.

Cat Update:
Thank you for all the lovely messages of sympathy about Kevin, he was one naughty, funny Jack the Lad sort of cat and I really miss him. His sister is still very upset, she stays close to anyone who’s outside without actually letting anyone near enough to touch her.

Wading Through Cement

27th November
Life has gone all turgid. I’ve been trying to get some quotes to lay a concrete floor so we can set up a studio in the barn adjoining the house. The landlord has agreed to pay half the costs and I want the job done before Christmas. I’ve completely failed to get a French builder to turn up. A very tall English man came, measured and sent me a quote but I need at least one more. The only other person vaguely interested in the job used to be a hairdresser in the UK before he moved here. He made and cancelled several arrangements but finally turned up this morning. Unfortunately he didn’t bring any measuring instruments with him. He seems to have learned the building trade by watching car mechanics - a sharp intake of breath, then gravely shaking his head and telling me what a difficult job it’ll be.