Despite the fact that tonight has been my fourth night back at work, and is now nearly over, I am mildly discouraged to note that the needle on the fuel tank still has not moved from the Full marker.
It is a jolly good job that I have got some working men in the house.
Today was the last day that Mark and Oliver were building in Barrow. They have got a few days at home now before they have got to go again.
I was torn between revelling in the peace and quiet and looking forward to them being at home again, because of course now we can carry on with our own exciting building project.
As you know, this is nowhere near finished yet, but it is beginning to feel very splendid. It is like living in a green cave at the back of a waterfall, except without the water, apart from in the bits where the roof still leaks.
The conservatory was glorious in the sunshine, filled with dappled leafy light, and I have spent ages doing tidying-up things in there today. The excuse for this was that it had become scruffy and overgrown and ragged, but actually the reason was that it was warm and smelled of tropical green.
This was most noticeable when I stood on the stool to try and tie things up a bit higher, because obviously it is more convenient if we are able to get in and out through the door underneath them. It has lately become tiresome to have to duck all the time.
Up in the roof the air was hot, and damp, and smelled overwhelmingly rich, like breathing in liquid pollen.
The point of the ceiling fans was to waft the warm air back downwards, but the rather unexpectedly spectacular success of the tomato plants and the moonflowers and the pumpkin has meant that we can’t use them any more. In fact we have to be careful when turning on the lights in case a flick of a mistaken switch should lead to an unexpected shower of chopped foliage.
Carefully, I dug out some unwanted invaders, one of which turned out to have been a stinging nettle, and which I am still remembering even now. I clipped back dead leaves and pulled up the worst of the mostly-eaten lettuces, and replaced them with new seeds. Then I hoisted the tomato plants out of the way, and tethered the stragglers firmly.
Stragglers makes it sound like a few wisps of straying leaf. It was nothing like that. Great thick creepers had to be uncoiled and tightly knotted back to the walls in order that the sofa could be used again without too much personal hazard.
In the end I was done. I left the workers’ dinner on the worktop and dashed out to the taxi rank.
I saw them very briefly when they stopped by to say hello on their way home some time later.
They looked tired but cheerful. and pleased to be finished.
There is a picture of Oliver at work. I am not exactly sure what he was doing, but I imagine that all of his clothes would benefit from a good shake out before being shoved in the washing machine.
I think he was planning an early night.
I also heard from Lucy. She thinks she might invite a friend from work round to visit since pubs are still irritatingly legislated out of doing anything nice.
She did not think she needed to tidy up. She said that all of her friends are police officers as well, and that collectively they think that any house without dead bodies and dog poo all over the place is pretty good.
I was pleased to hear that.
Perhaps I can stop worrying about mine.
