Builders – finally found some who didn’t want to re-build house with Lego or go pale at the height of the house. Reassuringly craggy Black Country men who shimmy around 3-storey scaffolding talking about the match. At least I think that’s what they’re talking about, even after 30 years in the Midlands I still struggle with the accent. They could be saying we spit in your granola bars you faux middle class Welsh dog for all I know. But, language barriers aside, we’re really pleased with their work and understanding of what the house is meant to be.
Painting and Decorating – I discovered moderate talent for standing on one leg on a wobbly ladder painting. I would probably win the viewers vote if decorating was on X-factor. Tries hard, comical and endearing – I would turn to Dermot as tears drip on my roller “I didn’t know I could paint until my father died and this undercoat is for him” while all my mates’ cheer me on in their We Heart Missed Bits t-shirts.
So that’s my 2013 project. It’s not perfect and head-builder hasn’t offered me a job (Unless I’m translating yow’ve made a right bosh bab incorrectly). Looked at hardcore pictures on tinternet about how to paint over whitewash and the correct way to paint render. I just google till I find the one that agrees with my opinion of how things should be done.
The Welsh Suite – remember the room we never used and never opened the door to. Some of you imagined it was a doorway to Narnia, or opened up to the Wolverhampton sub-branch of NASA with old style whirring computers. It’s all decorated and home to my extensive collection of Welsh tat. (One wrongly shaped clock, one framed copy of national anthem spelt wrong, a book and an ashtray) But we still never go in there.