For the first time, I realise, in over a month, there is no work pending on my house. I rose, did all my usual early-morning tasks, and set out for the Steeple House without a cheery artisan ringing the bell for access. The loft has been lagged, the porch reconstructed, the pillars holding up the back porch and the garage repaired, the roof tiles replaced, a ventilator put in the shower room and all the irrelevant ceiling grilles which allow free flow to waking wasps more than air blocked, and, as you can see, a little radiator installed in the downstairs toilet so that it will be a little less glacial in the winter months. It was redecorated before the radiator was put in, which is a curious way of going about things, but then I didn't ask for either to be done so I can't complain. I do find the plain white a little disappointing when so much of the rest of the house is plain white, so I may repaint it anyway. Not all the garage roof tiles were replaced ('I wanted to but they wouldn't let me', stressed the roofer, who I discovered a few days ago listening to Round The Horne which disposed me in his favour), so the roof now has a little steel grille around the bottom to catch any tiles that might still come adrift and crash into my neighbours' cars parked below. So the house is much tidier now, and I can't help wondering if I'm going to be evicted.
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