As I came downstairs this morning, music was blaring from the radio as usual as work was beginning for another day. I heard the dulcet tones of our diminutive builder, Roy and big Mike, the plasterer, who is built like a rugby player, singing a duet at the top of their voices, "Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me, doncha...doncha?" It was far too early for my mind to be boggling. I shut the kitchen door and put the kettle on.
Things are beginning to take shape in our new extension. Mike, the big plasterer, has finished in the living room and has started upstairs in the bedroom and new dressing room/walk-in wardrobe (Note to self: need more clothes to fill the new walk-in wardrobe. Nature abhors a vacuum). We just need Bob the Plumber to return and connect pipes, or whatever it is that plumbers do, to the wood burning stove and solar panel, as well as putting boiler back and return our central heating. Where the hell is Bob?
Roy, the builder, is always larking around. He is like a 10 year old boy in a 50 year old body. Anyway, he found an old pair of wellie boots and stuck them into a pile of gravel to make it look as if someone was buried under the gravel....at least, I think it was Roy. Still no sign of Bob, the plumber!
Could this be Bob the Plumber?
We ordered our carpets last weekend. I was just browsing around the carpet shop to start with and found a carpet that I really liked but there was no price on it. I went over to the counter to ask Tony (his name was printed on his polo shirt, in case you were wondering). Tony very kindly told me the price and then proceeded to inform me that Sarah Beeney had bought that very same carpet for her "Renovation Disaster" property, and then he said, "If it’s good enough for Sarah Beeney.....". I felt slightly insulted but the carpets we chose turned out to be much nicer than Sarah Beeney’s, so stick that in yer pipe Tony!
Roy just informed me that he’s going to his fishing club Annual General Meeting tonight. Apparently they have one every week.