Our next door neighbour popped round this afternoon, to admire the progress of the conservatory and to visit his ladders, which he hasn’t seen for months.

He said that he liked it very much, which is a relief, because it would have been awful if he had loathed it. Especially he liked the fairy lights, which he said looked nice from his garden at nights, and suggested, whilst ignoring Mark’s frantic gesticulations at him to shut up, that we added a small, illuminated Blackpool Tower on top of the pointy bit at the end.

I thought this was a brilliant idea, and could not believe that I had not thought of it already. Does anybody know where one might purchase such an item? If anybody has seen any, please let me know. About two feet tall would be just perfect.

He also invited us to come and have a drink with him some time. We do not drink with him very much because it always results in the most shocking hangovers. The last time was so much fun that we struggled to find our way home. He is the best neighbour imaginable, and I hope that he never, ever moves. He says that he has no plans to move, mostly because his house is stuffed with clutter that he does not want to bother sorting out, which is a relief, we will all grow old together. His father was in the same class as my father at school, so we have a Connection, almost as good as being related. 

He said goodbye to his ladders and left, and we got on with the day’s project, which for Mark was wiring in the central lights, and for me was covering boring white roof pieces with beautiful rose copper vinyl. 

This was a wonderfully soothing job. It involved just enough concentration not to get bored, but was easy enough that I could sing along to the soundtrack of Fiddler On The Roof whilst I was doing it. 

We were interrupted halfway through by the arrival of the previous lodger, who lives just across the road nowadays, and her brother. Our current lodger, incidentally, is also now our previous lodger, and the attic room is vacant again. I will be washing the sheets tomorrow, applications on a postcard please. 

We sat in the new conservatory in deckchairs rendered very wobbly by the piles of rubble still all over the floor, and made them admire the flashing lights and copper-and-gold finish, which they duly did, although not with as much enthusiasm as the children in the alley outside.

When they had gone we had got to get ready for work, but we carried on with the conservatory for a little while as well. Mark has got to go and install some rural broadband this week, and time is a bit limited. I do not know if our friends with the castle are really going to come and visit us, but we would like it very much if they did. I would like it even more if they did not have to pick their way cautiously through piles of rubble and then be polite about it.

I expect they will be thrilled with the flashing lights and gold roof. Their castle hasn’t got anything like that, I bet they haven’t thought of it.

LATER NOTE:   I got busy at work then, and now it is half past two in the morning, and Lucy has just arrived home.

We had a social get together around the kitchen table, because of course Oliver was not in bed either, and she told us all about her festival. She was searching bags and confiscating people’s drugs. This activity was made more interesting when one of her teachers turned up in the queue, although you will be pleased to hear that the teacher did not have any drugs. Lucy was relieved about this as well, there are some uncomfortable encounters in life that it is better to avoid.

After this she was wandering about in the middle of the night refusing admission to people who did not have the correct paperwork, including one of the main attraction bands. They were downcast to find that she had never heard of them and that they were going to have to sleep in the car park.

She was exhausted. She is suntanned and thinner and very blonde, and has learned cynicism from her weeks of hippie-management.

She will make a perfect police officer.

Can you see the beautiful coloured lights?

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