Jools is home for the last time in nearly two weeks. And we have workmen in.
Because, I am shit at DIY. And that’s being kind.
Over the years, things have slowly fell to pieces, but we have learned to live with the small falts. The worse one being the stair carpet, which acts as a liquid, slowly tumbling down the stairs until three steps from the bottom it creates a wave, and makes the step so small, you have to have the light on in the dark to ensure you don’t wall. Throw in two, or now four, hungry cats swirling round your feet, then it comes as no surprise to hear that Jools slipped, or was tripped, and broke a toe. Which has not healed right, and will have to be rebroken and reset.
There are also the brick flower beds, whose mortar is crumbling, the steps to the middle patio which tip up if you stand on the edge of them, and the small brick wall by the back door which was half demolished by an errant suitcase three years ago.
Finally, there is the step from the middle patio onto the windy path, which is nearly 18 inches high, so a middle step had to be laid, and I am no brickie.So, a man with a van full of tools and cement was hired, a list of jobs to do, and I let them get on with it.
I was to carry on working.
There was also the problem of Cleo’s poo and urine violations, which is now making the lounge carpet hum like a hundred close harmony singers. Carpet cleaner and air freshner were bought, and scrubbing the carpet and soft furnishings under the table was started.
On top of that there were to be deliveries.
More of those later.
And then there was work.
Always work.
I log on for the morning meeting only to realise there wasn’t to be one on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. So I was early, so deal with my slim in box, and look again at my current project.
The morning had dawned clear and bright, and the garden was filled with warm light, so I go out to snap some flowers for a shot of the day if nothing better came along.
The morning passed.
We had lunch, then I took the work laptop onto the sofa so I could keep an eye on Le Tour as they crossed in Provence.
More wonderful place to retire to.
Then came the first of the deliveries: new hi-fi speakers.
I have had my current set up, turntable excepted, since 1995 when armed with a copy of What Hi-Fi I went into the NAAFI at Laarbruch and bought whatever they had the magazine gave 5 stars.
And the amp and CD player have worked fine since, the speakers, wardrobe-sized Wharfdales have been good, but the material in the bass reflexes had begun to rot, but not attacked by cats and kittens as I alleged. Sorry for that, kitties.
The Wharfdales are now replaced with more compact KEFs, floorstanders that come with their own spiked stand, but nice easy to use cable inputs, meaning the cables just plug in so should never undo.
A guy arrives in a van, and unpacks the speakers, puts the stands on, connects them and we listen to Like a Prayer, and both agree, at ear-splitting volume that it is fine.I put on WFL (Think About the Future Mix) to hear the bass, not impressive, yet, but will improve with use.
Back to work, and Le Tour.
On Le Tour there is no breakaway all stage, so the peleton just cruises the country roads, looking at the scenery, whilst the commentators babble about how rare having no breakaway is. There were two slight hills, providing the only excitement until the final 1km, then in a flash it was all over.
Time to do dinner; pork pie, salad and potato bread.
Something simple.
And good.
The second delivery, of fizz, is dropped off. 12 bottles to wash down out fine meals and toast our good lives.
And that is it.
Outside the wind picks up, clouds thicken, and a light rain falls as it gets dark. Looks and feels like November.
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