March 9th, 2011

Night Work

I'm waking- but not getting up- with the sun. Last night I dreamed I was at an artistic party where everyone- including myself-  was dressed in rubber or pvc. I also had a dream about the old vicarage in Cambridge where I lived for three years in the1970s- which is unsurprising because I had gone to sleep trying to remember how the rooms were laid out and which way the staircase ran. In my dream the house was haunted. 

The Final Touches

Peter and Mohammed came round to have a site meeting about the little tidying up jobs that need to be done before the work on the house is signed off and Mohammed gets paid. Most of them are uncontroversial. And let me say before I start to niggle that over-all we're very pleased with the work.  One thing we're not pleased with is the flooring- or not so much the flooring itself as the beading round the edge of the flooring. Dougie- who got landed with finishing it off after Tom took sick-  really had no idea how to mitre a joint. Mohammed waxed very sorrowful over this and hummed and hawed and mentioned that the contract had cost him £5,000 out of his own pocket because his lads had had to work round us and our furniture- none of which had any bearing on the matter in hand. It's a silly thing to stick on-because we're looking at 15 minutes work- but perhaps he was sticking because he was conscious of having no-one on his pay roll he can trust do any better. But the thing with Mohammed is to plant a flag in the sand, absorb all his sorrowful mutterings- even sympathise with them-  and not give an inch. 

There's a light fitting in the attic that got broken when the men were putting the hatch in. I made to open the hatch to show Mohammed the damage and found that the flimsy little plastic hasp on it was broken. Oh dear! How sad. One more thing for the list.