Thunderbirds are Go

The plumbers started work today. Finally it feels like we might be getting somewhere. In fact, they were there when I arrived at the MBH - leaving Mr B at home to get Katherine to her horse-riding on time (poor thing had been all dressed and ready - jodhpurs, boots, chaps, big smile - since 7am... with riding starting at 9am she was a bit ahead of herself). Of course I was delayed on the way there by a big hay wagon, and by about a hundred calls from a very helpful lady at ERDF who is trying to organise our electricy supply for us.

Well, I say helpful. She wasn't able to explain the system to me in a way I could understand, and then very unhelpfully suggested that I should ask my husband. I was calm (I'm getting used to folk being casually sexist here - the level of what is normal is just different, and I am trying to accept it as being reality without accepting it as being right - if you see what I mean). Hopefully one day we will have electricity and can stop using the generator that makes me cough. Mind you, it does that less now I've pointed out that we had the exhaust end pointing into the room instead of out of the door.

Anyway, the plumber was his usual amusing and amused self (I think he finds our madness a source of great tales for his mates) and his workers set right to and were drilling great huge holes in the wall before I'd even got my camera out for a 'before' shot.

Mr B and I took advantage of their lunch break (none for me today, sadly) to build a little wall to hide some pipes behind, then my delightful afternoon job was making another thousand huge spiders homeless* so we can paint what may become Conor's bedroom.

Later, we met with our other coproprietaires (co-owners - our house is in a large park owned jointly by a bunch of houses) over snacks to chat about the upcoming meeting. Most of the chat was about what to do about our sewage (the system doesn't work and doesn't meet current norms, which are surprisingly two completely separate issues) and about M. Penible and the problems he causes everyone.

After all that, I still hadn't troubled my camera, so you're stuck with the tomato plant that comes inside every night so it doesn't get eaten by rodents. I had to fiddle a bit with the colour of the 'amber' one. The big tomatoes are still resolutely green and firm. But then I wouldn't co-operate if I was tied into a big plastic bag every night and only let out when some blonde woman could be bothered to haul herself out of bed.


* the one with a million baby spiders felt especially cruel.