Spouting

A stressful day. Too many builders (and related trades) in the house, getting in each others' way, some of them using noisy equipment that set everyone on edge. Later, I discovered that an incompetent lawyer who's busy cocking up our re-mortgage application has lost our marriage certificate and I can't have a go at him because I appear to have thrown away the receipt I got when I sent it by Special Delivery to him.

We should feel positive. The study and downstairs bathroom have new screed floors, on which wooden flooring will eventually be put down. Our bedroom and the entire outside of the house have been painted and look lovely. Everyone working here cracked on and got lots done, as they've been doing every day all month. Even I was able to get some work done, huddled over my laptop in the tent. Mrs O took the boy for a long walk and, even though it was over two miles and much tougher terrain than Mrs O expected, and he's only four, he loved it. He's been good all day, in fact, and earned lots of treats.

Instead, though, we feel it's been an incredibly difficult day and we're both exhausted and depressed.

We got a bit of a break when we went to Bideford for dentist's appointments, discovered we'd got the date wrong and treated ourselves to lunch at Café du Parc, one of our favourite eating places in North Devon.

On the waterfront, they were running the water jets - a bit of a local attraction, apparently. We'd read about them but never, in our four-and-a-half years living here, seen them. Until today. They operate at high tide or high noon or somesuch. Nothing spectacular, but pretty on a sunny day.