Monday was a good day.
Not only did Mini Seymour stay all day at school and seem to enjoy it, but also…
The Magic Digger arrived and footings were dug. Not only dug, but also filled with a small mortgage’s worth of concrete. We knew we could say goodbye to all of our non-existent money the moment we set eyes on this place, so any lamentations about pouring cash into a hole in the ground are not permitted. Not at this early stage of the renovation.
Much later on, when our little bungalow has completely bankrupted us, we may allow ourselves to lament.
Anyway, so now we effectively have a moat. The back door (in fact, the only usable door) is now accessed by a system of walking the plank, and trying not to be propelled off in the middle of the plank as it bends precariously southwards due to me not weighing what I used to.
Miraculously, only one of the little Seymours has fallen in as yet.
The mud that came out of the footings is now smeared all over the back garden, because Big Seymour said the lawn wasn’t level.
Ok, so now it’s more level. But there’s no frickin’ grass.
“Muck-Away”, he says, “is expensive.”
I say, why can’t builders speak properly. Surely, “taking the muck away” takes almost no more time to say, and makes so much more sense..?
I’m sure he makes a very good point. But I just wish I hadn’t wasted a massive sack of grass seed on the garden only four weeks ago.
But, all in all, it’s a positive start.
I’m just slightly dreading what our post lady has to say, when she comes round the corner to face The Somme and Armageddon rolled into one, and sees that she has to walk the plank to ensure safe delivery of our mail.
She’s not going to like it.
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