Progress!

Walls are done. It's coming on!

Monday morning

All ready to start building the walls.
So where's the brickie gone?

On Friday evening, the two lads who were working on the base disappeared, leaving the hose and extension lead still attached in the kitchen and stretching right across the patio doors. I managed to get the hose tidied up by taking one end and walking round the wet concrete to the window and then rolling it up. When it came to the extension lead, it wasn't quite long enough to walk round with it, so divergent thinking was called for.

Back in the kitchen, I unplugged it, then climbed out of the kitchen window, (one half of the window on the left of the picture) plug in hand, and walked round to the gates so that I could roll it up. Sounds complicated? Just a bit.

Building in spite of the weather

The base is in. Yes, it is the base for the conservatory, not a swiming pool!

Builders eh?

I am having a conservatory built on the back of the house. which I plan to use for my counselling. I say 'I' because it is my project, so the builder called in yesterday to lay out ready for the cement base to be put down today. There had been some discussion about whether to move the side gates or not and we had finally decided not, and when Bob the Builder turned up, we ran through the decisions we had made and he started to measure up.
"I'll just shut the back door," he said, "and get on with measuring."
So he did and I carried on doing what I was doing in the living room, roughly about six yards away from him.
Minutes later, Keith phoned.
"Is that all-right, then?" he asked.
"Is what all-right?"
"Moving the gates. He says he can't get the full width otherwise. Didn't he say anything to you? He's just rung me up to ask about it."
So, having shared my views on this way of going about things with Keith, (who then retired to nurse his sore ear), I waited...
When the gates had been moved and Bob and his sidekick were about to leave, I went to the door.
"Oh," I said sweetly, "I see you moved the gates after all."
"Oh yes, I rang the boss..." he began.
I stopped him there and explained it to him.
I was quite amicable about it. Not a word passed my lips about sexism or male chauvinist pigs - really.
"We'll be here between half eight and nine in the morning," he promised. "And I'll bring you a white hat, as you're the boss."
It's three minutes to nine and all is silent....