Messy

So I woke up to the sound of steady rain. Which I suppose is a good thing. It, er, "settled the dust". There are pools of mud and layers of wet sand everywhere. The terrace in particular is covered in sand, and because of the wind the many, many floor-to-ceiling windows are splattered with mud from top to bottom. I decided I'd let it dry before trying to clear it up. Sweeping has to be easier than mopping or hosing down. At least the sky isn't yellow any more, and in the afternoon it even stopped raining.

Still an exciting day though. At lunchtime a guy claiming to be from the gas board invited himself in to "check the installation" which he pronounced dangerous and illegal. Even before he said this, I was wondering "Why did I let him in?" And he insisted he could fix the problem immediately. Hmm ...

To cut a long story short, I quickly retreated to the terrace and phoned Inés for advice. She was at work, and while I was talking to her the guy had already delved under the sink and disconnected the rubber tube from the gas bottle. I'm glad I have a Spanish hit squad. Within five minutes Inés's mum came steaming down the road in angry Spanish granny mode (abuela española enfadada). After a shouting match in the street involving a threat to call the Guardia Civil and probably much more I didn't catch (I wish I'd filmed it for educational purposes), Mr "Gas Board" grabbed his toolbox, sprang into his car and drove off on squealing tyres. Ten minutes later Inés's dad showed up, probably rolling his eyes at how dumb I was. It has to be said the rubber tube is two years past its sell-by date (unsurprising given the vintage of most stuff in this house), so he said he'd buy another one and fit it himself. Once he'd left, I sat down in the garden with a cup of tea and did some deep breathing.

It is a bit scary how you can be thrown off balance by a con man. Initially I thought he was delivering a parcel because he was carrying a package and mentioned S's name (which I realised he must have read off the postbox). And he'd clearly clocked the French car and thought "Foreigners, they'll be easier to fool." Dealing with something like this in your third language doesn't help either ...

Oof. On the positive side, I did the scary separation of sleeves from body of my jumper -- I didn't understand the instructions at all, but on Ravelry I eventually found the author had linked to a Youtube video that showed how to do it, using techniques I would have had no clue about. And this evening I went to the Wednesday intercambio for the first time in ages and had a good chat with Pia (Swedish) and Isabel (Spanish). Home, glass of wine, cheese and biscuits. And breathe!