It is the middle of the night.
Mark is in the shower and I am writing very hastily whilst he is occupied.
I have run out of day, so this will be brief.
We have got visitors. My friend Amanda and her husband Jez have come all the way from Dorset to see us. They are having a world tour of everywhere between Dorset and Scotland, and fortunately we have fitted in somewhere around the half way mark.
It has been an ace day, mostly featuring eating and drinking. This is perfect because the sun is shining.
I had originally intended to cook, but then it turned out that Jez didn’t like cheese. I considered the things that I can cook and it turned out that more or less all of them featured cheese somewhere, and so I instantly abandoned the idea and we went to the little bistro across the road instead. This was a much better idea, because there was no washing up and no flapping about.
We had been a bit rushed, because the current painting chap has been a bit preoccupied for the last couple of days, and not managed to get much painting done, so this morning we took the front door off to coat it in paint stripper and speed the job along a bit.
Mark climbed the ladder to do the eaves whilst I scraped the peeling paint off the door, and we were thus engaged when our friends turned up, so we stopped and went downstairs to loaf about in the conservatory.
We have not been back to it since, and even as I write the front door is still lying on its back in the front garden, gazing anxiously out at the stars and contemplating its new outlook on life.
Fortunately the weather is good, because it turns out that front doors make very useful draught excluders. There is a noticeable draught now, flapping the curtains in the huge hole where the door used to be.
We were pleased to realise that nobody had stolen it when we came back from the bistro. That would have been a terrible moment, but nobody had, so that was all right. Mark says that nobody steals a lot of work, which is definitely what the door is at the moment.
We are going to try and finish it tomorrow. The painting chap came along this evening and stripped off a bit more paint, so with any luck we will have a door again by the time we have to go to work.
It is not the end of the world, although I will not be sorry when the draught is excluded again.
Mark is finished in the shower. I can hear him cleaning his teeth.
I am sorry that this has been so short. I have run out of day.
I will do better tomorrow.
