Progress is progressing, slowly but surely. At least we still have a roof over our heads. Last time I looked up.
Tomorrow, all things going to plan, and I use the word 'plan' loosely, I should be into a dod of plastering. I'm quite good at that game and my previous plastering has often been remarked on. Things like, 'How novel, pebble dash on an inside wall'. Or, 'Did you get a bunch of gerbils mixed in the wallpaper paste then?'
Why is it, that looking at an almost perfect plaster finish, something in the head says, 'Okay, just one more pass with the float.' which results in dragging the plaster back to it's original starting spot. We'll try to resist this time. I know, but, hay, the float's wet enough, right?
Quote; P. G. Wodehouse.
"The village hall was one of those mid-Victorian jobs in glazed brick which always seem to bob up in these olde-world hamlets and do so much to encourage the drift to towns."
No comments:
Post a Comment