At the end of the day...

We had a site meeting this morning (to be written up elsewhere when I have the energy). The architect admired the plastering and the mist-coating and was told things about the build that I already knew because I'm in there, involved and talking with the workers. Meanwhile his assistant drafted minutes which, if they are anything like the previous ones, I will have to correct in due course.

Afterwards I bit the bullet and sent an email telling the architects that I have run out of money to pay them and giving them the 7 days notice the contract requires. I wish I had done it months ago.

I then cycled to Wickes in the west end of Oxford to buy two cans of bathroom paint, cycled one in my backpack and the other in my bike basket back to the house where the site manager reminded me that I'd forgotten his guidance and had bought the wrong paint. I cycled back to the west end of Oxford to change it and wearily back to the house. The site manager was very surprised to see that I'd got the job done but I need to buy tubs of ceiling paint tomorrow and there is a limit to how much I can transport on my bike at a time. I confess that right now I'd be glad of the car I ditched 16 years ago. Well, not that one, since it had died, but a version that works.

I took this picture in the High Street on my cycle ride back to my attic. (I wouldn't have been able to do that in a car since they are banned in the High Street.)

By the end of the day there was not a peep from the architect. But then they haven't replied to the fairly robust email I sent 10 days ago either. I wonder whether they will just fade into oblivion