Cool start, but becoming sunny in the afternoon with a fair breeze keeping it cooler than it would have been. Great drying weather.
Started back to work after my leisurely few days doing touristy things. Did some washing so I could take advantage of the good drying conditions. Then I tried to mend the gutter but I think it’s going to need more effort than the token push that I had hoped for. Might even need to put it on my ToDo list – bum!
Despite all the other things I want to start, I’ve really got to finish the kitchen area before Ilka gets here next week. That way I can show her a big proud tick next to the “Make kitchen Units” …. oh yes and the kitchen units themselves of course. Not sure which she’ll find most impressive. It would be nice to get the job out of the way rather than leave it hanging around. “You never finish a job until another one’s started” as my children used to tell me, or words to that effect.
So I finished all the woodworkery – mainly cladding – and re-hung some doors that were annoying me because one had warped and it could have easily looked like bad woodworkmanship to the untrained eye. Can’t have that can I? I like to hide my bad workmanship under the kitchen counter.
Nipped into town to get some bread and provisions. In the evening I ate early for a change ( ie. Before seven) and then mixed some tile adhesive to start sticking-down a few tiles on the worktop.
Talking of mixes, I received some custard powder in the post today from my mother. Now that was a surprise – she must be reading my diary ‘cos I think I was lamenting the difficulty in finding custard the other day. What the postman must have thought was in the envelope is anybody’s guess, but he did eye me suspiciously as he jammed the envelope in my letterbox. He probably only thought it was some sort of class A drug thank-God, and not the English culinary fauxpas that is custard mix. I manage to sneak it out of the letterbox and into the kitchen without the neighbours suspecting anything though. They still haven’t quite recovered from the Christmas pudding I inflicted on them some years back. If I had to explain custard powder to them as well I think they’d be on the phone to immigration toot sweet.
Anyway, thanks mum. Later on I might try some strawberries with custard, when all the shutters are closed. And if you are reading my diary, perhaps it’s worth mentioning that it’s also really difficult to get an Aston Martin DB9 round these parts – particularly one in British Racing Green with white leather seats. I wonder what the postman will make of that delivery!
