August 4th, 2013


My Mother's House

The keypad that allows entry to the back door has been on the blink since before we went away. I propose we replace it with a straightforward, non- electrical Yale lock.

We've been waiting for months for a builder to come and fix the damp in our bedroom. He fixed it before to no good effect and I suspect there's nothing he can do now short of taking down the wall- and that's why he's delaying his return.

There's wallpaper peeling off the ceiling in the hall.

Matthew fixed the greenhouse while we were away. I don't know how he managed. The panes of glass keep falling out of a wooden framework which has- in places- rotted into a state of non-existence. I keep waiting for a heavy rain or a strong wind to take the whole thing down.

The electricity went off yesterday. We tracked the fault down to one of the rings on the kitchen hob- and isolated it.  It must be 40 years since the house was last rewired.

The dining table my mother uses as a desk has a leg on the point of detaching itself. My sister has propped it up with bits of wood she found in the garage.

The roof isn't looking too good. There are a lot of broken tiles.

The switch that controls the garage doors works sometimes.

The hornets were back last night. They got into the bathroom and both bedrooms.

In Passing

Is it just us or is there something seriously amiss with Google?

We were in Tenterden yesterday afternoon- such a handsome town! There must be a reason for the high street being so broad. I'll look it up later when Google comes back.

I've just started Shirley. The rector of a West Yorkshire village has dispatched his curate- armed with pistols and shillelagh- to defend the local mill against frame breakers- which is totally mad and Bronte knows it. This is Jane Austen's period but Bronte is choosing to write about all the things Austen left out.