Of progress and wheels – a few before and durings.
Yo Homeslices – greetings from the sickbed. Wherein brain-deadness covereth all like a sodden blanket.
I say this sotto voce, just in case Fate is lurking somewhere in the bushes – but it is conceivable that we have passed through the valley of death and begun our ascent. Or to cut the hyperbole, that we have finished the dismantling of the Regency Wreck and have begun the re-mantling. I know! Craycray innit? But, let me tell you, that valley was wide and boulder-strewn. Our wagon of hope and fortitude just about perished along the way.
A friend remarked recently that we’ll be on a roll now and my response is yes, we are indeed rolling, but at much at the same pace as the first stone-age wheels rolled. You know, just blazin’ merrily along. Actually we are in attitudes of agitated despair and glumnitude here because the official moving-in date in November was nudged a while ago to January, which was just about cope-able with, and has now been shunted to the end of March, which is emphatically not.
But leaving all that aside for one moment – to give you a glimpsette of progress so far, by which I mean that which is visible and therefore of interest to me, rather than structural and buried deep within the bowely fabric of the house.
The stone in the basement vestibule is now golden and gleaming, courtesy of the builder’s wife Lin, who actually should be called Builder II on account of how hard she works. I began the process and she has taken it over – we have gone from this:
And the dining room is on the march, from this thing of potential
to this thing of golden glory:
All of which is Mr Pimp’s own fair work. He has further still to go with his trusty scutch hammer, but even now it is looking almost baronial, don’t you think? Positively Arthurian! And opposite, this gorgeous stud and noggin wall has been uncovered, and will remain thus:
The plaster on the wall to the left of Noggin the Nog is a little drummy, so there are perchance more stone revelations queuing there. That dining room, I tell you, will be a veritable feast of texture. A glut! And, furthermore, I shall be spared the necessity of agonising over paint colours. Which is always welcome.
And speaking of progress, we escaped to the country a couple of weeks ago, to see how Tortoise the calf was faring.
And when we arrived we found Tortoise so busy with his homies that he could barely manage a wave:
We also discovered that Miss Brown, one of the two original matriarchs of the herd, with this little blokey in tow:
Which made me extremely, ecstatically happy, because the last two times we saw her she’d separated herself from the herd and I feared she had lost a calf.
So there we have it. All is well in the Green Kingdom, and stultifyingly slow in the urban one. And I am off to my sickbed.