Pretty in Pink

My bedchamber, the boudoir, my sleeping quarters, the master bedroom...this room is my escape. Its the place that is just mine, where I can escape. Therefore, I wanted it to be calming, peaceful and a soothing place to be in.

Now a colour I would NEVER associate with myself is pink. I don't wear it, and don't feel a particular draw to it in general. So the fact that as an adult woman, I have chosen to have a fantastically feminine bedroom in such a flirtatious, captivating, aphrodisiacal, lascivious colour as pink suprised me a little! It all happened when I bought a painting in an auction. Initially I actually bought the picture for the frame. However, the more I looked at the painting in it, the more I fell in love with it, the brushstrokes and colours were exsquisite. So my whole room became designed around a picture I paid less than £10 for, because I initially wanted the frame.

You'll see from the photographs that the picture was a large painting, of what looks to me like, hydrangeas. It is beautiful even if it's slightly damaged.....more to the point, the flora was pink. I figured a white wall wouldn't pick out the different tones enough. I set about finding a dusty pink that I liked enough to do a feature wall in. Good old Annie Sloan's chalk paint in Scandinavian pink was the very tone. Not saccharine, bubble gum pink, and I could tone it down further with a coating of talc (I used imperial leather talcum powder as it was on offer)!...try it, it works a treat! As a side note, my Dad did ask if I had a womb complex, with the pink thing. But I think (despite no longer having a womb), that I am completely comfortable with my prenatal existence and have no desire to replicate my fetal existence..please don't take this musing seriously!!!

When I was a teenage girl my bedroom was messy...I mean REALLY messy. I always dreamt of having a pretty room, with a dressing table and a matching vanity set. In reality it was covered in Motorhead posters (partly to hide the vile 70's wallpaper), the bed was propped up with an old Tonka truck, I collected animal bones, had pet rodents and there were clothes and records everywhere. My best friends also used to come and hang out and we'd flick jelly and marshmallows onto the ceiling, then date them to see who's stayed up the longest. Mum said it made her despair, and pretty much ignored the state of it. So even if I had a pretty bedroom, chances are I'd have trashed it in due course!

The bedroom,had built in wardrobes when I moved in, they were discoloured yellow pine & pretty gross. Yet they had the look of shutters, which I thought if I could make more 'vintage' would look fine. I set about sanding and painting in a haphazard way to get an aged look, added new ceramic door handles & Dave added some structure inside.

I ripped up the carpets and found beautiful floorboards underneath, these needed a woodworm treatment, sanding and varnish, but they came up a treat. Parts of the room had black streaks running down. We were told there was a fire in that part of the house as the ceilings have been rehung (badly, that's a job for another year). Meaning all woodwork and walls needed a repaint. I kept all of the rest neutral as I wanted my other pictures and bits and pieces to do the talking.

We slept on an air mattress on the floor for around a month (which used to deflate during the night, resulting waking up on a hard floor), then used the kids mattresses, finally upgrading to a sofa bed. The curtains were an old pentagram scarf pinned up to preserve modesty! Eventually, after six months of this camping, I got my old bed assembled and put some curtains up....it was beyond bliss!

This weekend we put the final pictures up and got the dressing table in place. The room looks beautiful. I actually have an alluring, and relatively sophisticated boudoir, for the first time in my life and that makes me very happy!

Some of my favourite pictures

Hideous, yellowed pine wardrobes

Vintage shutter style paint job on wardrobe doors

My bed, and the painting the room was designed around (spot Behemoth lounging around).

Gold Lloyd loom chair, Lebus dressing table and wardrobes

Ostrich Egg, orchid and vintage mirror in window sill

Furniture recycling for the stony broke!

I've never really liked the more modern furniture. I have a blanket box from Ikea, a couple of crap pine chests of drawers, but other than all that the furniture I own is all older bits and pieces. Nothing matches. Some I've picked up out of desperation and necessity, some I've inherited, and others I've made a conscious decision to buy from furniture recycling schemes. I get lots of things given to me as well. I'm known for my love of recycling, or as it is called now, upcycling. I'm appalling at saying no, or throwing out things that aren't beyond repair. Although I did draw the line at a rattan commode that Annabel got for me (it just wasn't that pretty, sorry Bels xx)!! Had it been one of the famous 'Chippendale commodes', one of which was found in Morton-in-the Marsh in Gloucestershire, selling at Sotheby's for an astronomical price back in 1920, I would, of course, have given it house space (I do ask myself how I know this shit....pun intended).

I appreciate that these older pieces of furniture are made far more robustly- built to last I like to think. Some have a gorgeous patina just as they are, and require nothing more than a good beeswax or linseed oil finish. Others are just crying out to be brought back to life, with a lick of chalk paint, a soft wax and some new handles. Although I do worry about naffing stuff up, so try my best to be sympathetic to the piece rather than follow fashion...remember the rag rolled walls and black ash furniture that were so 'on trend' in the 80's? Ugh...just no!

I love it when a bit of furniture becomes grand, back to it's former glory. I also love it when it gets a little worn in, chipped on the edges or just looks a bit loved and used. That fits in with my house, my hoarded, no, I mean carefully collected, vintage bits and bobs, and my lifestyle too. Most importantly I love a bargain...who doesn't?

I have many 'ongoing' projects, and as you know by now a fondness for lists. Whilst I write down lots, I also have these projects in my head. Some I'll do quickly, others, like the welsh dresser I inherited from my Nanny when she moved, took me ages....around 4 years...to get around to doing!

I keep meaning to do a re upholstery course one day, so I can learn to do more things with chairs and soft furnishings. I'm sure it's not that hard and is just a case of deconstructing with the right tools,  then reconstructing... maybe that will be my next project.

Here are some pictures of things I've tarted up, and a couple that are waiting to be done:

Welsh dresser from my Nanny, this was pine originally. Painted, waxed and filled with vintage china Ive collected from charity shops and brocantes. 

Before. Lamp shade from France, stand also from France given to me by Dad, before - total 10 euros

After. Waxed and patch worked (note the lovely gold frames I also collected from junk shops)

Before. Sewing box, £6 with contents from charity shop in Gloucester

After. Using found material and gold rick rack edging

My beloved Victorian bed. Mum & Dad gave me this when I was about 14. Ive redone this twice as it was left in a shed for about 10 years when I left Bath to come back to Gloucestershire. I had to source the proper ceramic casters and put them back on - that was a job!

In situ, after a wire brush down, and lick of paint. Also a patchwork quilt I made from scraps of  Kaffe Fassett materials

Coco, my French mannequin - waiting to be restored. I found her covered in dust at the back of a brocante. The wooden top part is actually bits from stair finials that I found in the same place. Cost 10 euros

Before. A rocking chair from Dave's Mum. We had one like this when we were kids, so I have an affection for these.

After. With a crochet blanket I taught myself to make.

Before. Old sewing box from Dave's Mum.

After. Blue and funky!

Before - Lebus dressing table from furniture recycling scheme. Very scratched top. Cost £20

After. Cleaned up and painted and waxed

Before. I actually paid more than I like to with this, but I thought it had potential. £100 from furniture recycling scheme.

After, Painted, waxed and titivated!

This was for my cabinet of curiosities. I love it as is. Cleaned and waxed. £35 from Barnardos in Quedgeley

Old school desk bought from my lovely friend Trish. Waxed and given to my son, who wants to become a writer. (Spot the crap pine chest of drawers)!

A little lesson in flexible thinking & Mojitos

Something I discovered after moving in, is that the mental list I had been making of tasks that needed doing and in what order, would change on an almost weekly basis.

For someone who flirts with OCD and who can be pretty rigid in their ideas, this can be a tricky challenge. I am by no means a clean freak - far from it, I'm quite dirt blind. However, I do find too much clutter that isn't mine, or isn't in some kind of order can put me on edge. I tend to group things into piles, or sets, that way I know where things are most likely to be if they don't have a place just yet. I also like to do things in my own sweet way, it's probably deemed a little eccentric, I tend to live in my own time frame, but it works for me! I digress....

So, my list was not going to plan, and I slowly and grudgingly came to realise, that it probably never would. I diligently wrote down what I thought were the first jobs (all on the back of an envelope). This list then morphed into a new list (shortly after this I instated my 'list' book), as we discovered more pressing tasks to enable us to actually live in the property as a family. We also uncovered things I hadn't foreseen, or discovered that some tasks were far less urgent than we first anticipated. 

I rapidly needed to address my unwillingness to compromise, or risk being sectioned! I have a handy little trick I do in such situations now....I add things I've done to the list, then instantly cross through them! There... I've achieved! I have discovered that as long as I've done some things, I can be happy. Achieving nothing is what drives me bonkers, I like to sit down at the end of the day and gloat a little about how much I've accomplished. After all it means we are a few steps closer to living the dream. 

My advice to anyone thinking of taking on a renovation project is to BE FLEXIBLE. It is fast becoming my mantra and my sanity. Nothing will go according to plan. You will wildly under estimate timings, and run out of money. You will exhaust your supplies of paint; nails; screws; fittings and fixtures 20 minutes after the DIY store has closed for the long bank holiday weekend. You will pull a muscle, or crick your neck just as you are shifting your last wheelbarrow of rubble and be rendered useless for the next few days. It will never be straight forward, but if you think flexibly and have a bit of fun on the way (oh yes, sometimes it is f****ing hilarious)  then you will ensure at least a little bit of sanity remains. 

Oh and always have some of your favourite booze in the house. Mine is a damn fine Mojito. Here is a recipe for it:

Mojito is a traditional Cuban highball. Traditionally, a mojito is a cocktail that consists of five ingredients: white rum, sugar (I like brown sugar best), lime juice, soda water, and mint. 

Ingredients: A big old splash of white rum (this volume will depend on your stress levels), a few leaves of mint, soda water, some slices of fresh lime, 2 teaspoons sugar

Preparation: Mint sprigs muddled with sugar and lime juice. Rum added and topped with soda water. Garnished with sprig of mint leaves. Served with a straw.

Served: On the rocks; poured over ice, so it cracks nicely before you drink it in babeeee x

The Mojito of sanity & flexible thinking

Old boilers, new boilers and knocking down walls

It was alleged that the boiler and hot water tank were all in fine fettle, I even received an in-date safety certificate with all of the house paperwork. Theoretically, we should have been able to be toasty warm, and have lovely hot water, as soon as we moved in. It transpired that there was as much chance of that happening, as there was Prince Phillip visiting a foreign country and not casually insulting every aspect of the culture!

The water in the house was either painfully cold, or absolutely scalding hot (only a couple of taps worked also, but that's another story). The heating was the same, you couldn't touch the radiators without being scorched and for some reason they came on when you tried to get any hot water (not good for a woman of a certain age I can tell you)! When the boiler was 'working' it made a horrendous screeching and rumbling noise, and the flame would often just wither and die out. It actually really scared me, I had visions of the house exploding and the only thing being left standing was the wall that had the boiler rammed into it. Or us just not waking up one day, like those dreadful stories you hear about in cheap, badly maintained holiday complexes. The boiler was in the kitchen, it was VERY rusty and the flue hole was crumbling and letting in water around it. Upstairs in Barry White's sauna room there was an immersion tank. this just plain didn't work, dead as a Dodo. I had thought that perhaps we could exist with this system for a year or so, but I quickly realised there was no way we could safely live like this. I was worried the boys would scald themselves, and I really didn't want to have to wash my hair in cold water for a year! We managed like this for three months into the winter, and I received the biggest fuel bill I've ever had. I snapped, and decided we would get a combi boiler and have it moved upstairs in the bathroom. 

I called one of the big gas companies to have a chat about trading in my old boiler for new. The types of 'fantastic' offers they are always pushing on the radio or TV. They quoted me £9K, whaaaaa...how can that be???!!! We then met a 'far more fantastic' local plumber who came and looked at the boiler we had...just on the off chance it could be repaired. He took the front off to look at it and it fell apart in his hands, promptly dropped out of the wall and leaked rusty sludge all over him. That was that....the boiler was condemned! Despite this he quoted me just shy of £5K, Still high, but I could do that at a stretch and I would much rather pay someone local who had good recommendations, than some mega corporate thief! I also realised that there was no way that boiler could ever have had a safety certificate from a reputable plumber, so I'm not sure how they forged that! 

Our local plumber installed a beautiful new combi boiler (I called her Belinda boiler), moved it upstairs for us, and bricked up the hole from the previous rust bucket. It was a lot of work to install, as we had micro bore pipes. Luckily they held and all was well. It was bliss! We still only had a few working taps, a crap bath and no shower, but we had access to normal temperature hot water, and a beautiful, quiet, sleek new boiler... I felt like a princess!!!

By replacing the hot water and heating system with a combi boiler, it made the hot water tank defunct (well, more defunct than before). This gave us the opportunity to generate more space, so we decided to knock Barry White's sauna room through to the bathroom. Creating one much larger bathroom space. The twins had their first DIY sledgehammer & crowbar experience that day. I don't think they could quite believe that they were allowed to just lay in to a wall and demolish it...THEY LOVED IT! I was finding bits of wall for weeks after.

As usual all the building rubble and useless plumbing bits and pieces ended up lying about in the garden for weeks, before we eventually moved it to the garage dumping ground. On closer inspection I suspect that boiler was deadly. It was a very expensive, but very wise choice to evict it quickly from the cottage. 

The condemned boiler - note the hole in the plaster at the top of the boiler and the rust!

Grandad overseeing the demolition of the wall

Pro-cat-stination and other excuses....

On Sunday afternoon of September 11th 2016, we collected our new additions. Brother and sister gingers cats.  They are 11 and three quarter months old, and will have their first birthday on September the 18th. I have already discovered how difficult writing on a computer is with cats. The keyboard must have similar properties to catnip, as every time I sit down to type, one, or both, come and lie on it!

They are very beautiful rescue cats and unusually for rescues, they don't have a particularly sad back story either. Their previous owners got a dog that didn't get on with the cats. So they made a sensible decision to re-home them via the Cat's Protection League, allowing them to have a better family life. They were clearly very loved and handled a lot, as they are extremely affectionate moggy's.

I have had cats before and do enjoy the companionship of them (I must confess to being in the high risk category of being a mad cat lady. If I'm particularly annoyed or stressed, stupid cat and cute kitten YouTube clips always make me smile - goddamn I just typed that out loud didn't I)!! I like the fact they trip you up at the top of the stairs, shred toilet paper, knock things that interest them off the sides, misjudge leaps and try to steal anything you are eating that they think actually should be theirs.

You may recall in the previous posting that we were going to rename the cats.
The male, who is enormous and has white socks, bib and tip of tail, is called Behemoth. After a demonic, firearm and vodka loving cat character in one of my favourite books, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov.
The female, who is a dark ginger, with beautiful round amber eyes, is called Osiris, which could be considered a male name I suppose.... Osiris is the Egyptian God of the afterlife, the underworld and the dead, it is also my son, Jasper's, favourite Egyptian deity.

The cats have to stay in for two weeks to acclimatise to their new home, meaning we have to keep the doors and windows closed. Anyone that knows me, knows I was born in a barn, shutting doors and I just dont seem to mix well. If you're doing DIY and creating lots of dust, or lugging tools and so on around, the door needs to be open. Therefore since Sunday, and the imposed lock down, I've discovered a new noun related to my lack of DIY and more relaxed state. Pro-cat-stination. I walk by a cat, I have to smooth it, I sit down and a ball of fluff appears on my lap, a cat is sleeping on my bed - naturally I have to join it. This all takes time!

In my defense this is bonding, AND I did look up carbide drill bits on the screwfix website this morning.........

Osiris spying on the neighbours

Behemoth wondering if he can leap upwards safely

Behemoth on my bed

Beautiful Osiris

Chunky Behemoth

A little link to some of my art...if you're interested

Amongst other things I like to do is paint and make things. This keeps me sane and is a creative outlet that is a must in my life.

I work as an Arts in Health practitioner (actual job title is Creative Therapies Coordinator) at a local hospice. I love my job, but in order to keep fresh ideas flowing and be able to practice with credence I need to ensure I keep up with my own creative endeavours.

So here is a sneaky peek at what I do:

http://onlinegalleries.com.au/users/AmabelMortimer/

Pilgrim's pets, new cats and other animals I have loved

Growing up on a self sufficient smallholding meant that sometimes animals were my best friends. We had rare breed pigs (Berkshires & Middle Whites), Dexter and Jersey cows, Welsh badger faced sheep, Golden Guernsey goats, horses, donkeys and an array of ducks, chickens, geese and turkeys. Including a prize winning bastard of a Bronze turkey stag called Sodom. Mum delighted in giving the animals 'unusual' names, we had a pair of Blue Pekin bantams called Anthony and Cleopatra, a hideous Dorking cockerel called Killer, two very tame, very old black sheep called Evadne and Hilda after Hinge & Bracket. The pigs were named after flowers; we had Petunia, Tulip, Pansy and the beautiful Flower, the cows were Buttercup and Daisy and the oddly named Lady Diana, the donkeys were Daffodil & Jubilee, the lambs were all things like hotpot, mint sauce and rosemary, the geese were George and his ladies. I loved the cycle of life with animals, staying up all night with a farrowing sow and catching newborn piglets in your arms, clearing the mucus from their airways and hearing that first piglet squeak always delighted me.

We also had numerous rescue dogs, cats and house rabbits too, they have always been a big part of Mum & Dad's life, Dad lovingly endures it, Mum adores it! The dogs have varied from Pekingese to Newfoundland's and every type in between. Each pet having a rescue story and a unique personality, and each stealing a little bit of our heart. Safe to say the animals ruled the house, at one point we had 9 dogs and they all wanted a space on the sofa!

Growing up in this way did mean I felt a little different to my friends. Their houses were always much cleaner, and they didn't have broody coops, or heat lamps with boxes of teeny chicks huddled under them in their bedrooms, or incubators in their hallway, or newborn early spring lambs warming in the bottom of the Rayburn. Sometimes I longed for a matching dressing table set, but I'd have probably put my wellies all over it, and my friends were always quick to come over to our house rather than hang out at theirs!

It was therefore, only natural that when I left home at the tender age of just 18, I would end up accumulating pets. I had loads of pet rodents, rats, Siamese ones, brown ones, albino and hooded. Hamsters, Dwarf and Siberian and gerbils. You could barely get into my room at university and all night I could hear the comforting sound of gnawing bars, happy rat chattering and squeaking exercise wheels. I missed the open spaces of home, but these little ridiculously named buddies were my sanity - my room smelt like home!

Fast forward several years on and we find ourselves in a new house and with a new family of pets. Most of the animals we live alongside now are wild. We have Richard and Judy the obese wood pigeons who live in the huge listed Silver Birch near the garage. Richard is a slapstick genius, often you hear him flapping about as he falls off his branch when dozing off. We have King Tut & Cleo the blackbirds, he's quite a gent and seems to collect food for both of them and ensure the coast is clear for her. Mr Robin who always has a beady eye on the comings and goings of us humans, the shy hedgehog Tiggywinkle family, the unnamed slugs, collectively known as the slimy plant wreckers (ugh, but good for the hogs), and lots of beautifully busy and abundantly fluffy bumble bees, all called the Bee Gees. We also have a lovely little black hamster called Mordecai. She resembles an inquisitive, velvety little mole and chews anything she can get her little paws on!

Tomorrow we are getting two new additions.....I promised the boys that once the worst of the building work was done - ie the roofing, meaning no more scaffolding, we would get a cat. True to my word, we met with two lovely ladies from the cats protection league this week (strangely I'd met one of them before when I was 19 and got run over by a drunk lorry driver. She'd been the driver of the car he'd hit before he'd knocked me off my pushbike). They vetted the house and us. I cringed a little showing them into the sitting room, which is full of my taxidermy pets (these weren't my actual pets, just rehomed vintage taxidermy pieces). I laughingly reassured them that this wouldn't be the fate of any adopted puss we had! We passed, and they tantalised us with pictures of sweet whiskered felines, looking for love. They showed us photos of a brother and sister who couldn't be separated, who were just under a year old and very playful. Both marmalade coloured, ginger mogs, with big amber glowing eyes. Our hearts were stolen. We went to meet them them on Thursday and they put on a fabulously, tarty display. Rolling around, batting us with sweet white tipped paws and purring loudly....well, how could we resist! All being well they will start settling in with us tomorrow, and as is our family tradition, their names will be Behemoth and Osiris. xxx

Dennis Wheatley - my taxidermy 'pet' goat x

Sunday Fire and Desire

This is just a quick little post about things we've found and things we've burnt. Today is a burning day...we seem to have a lot of them lately, if it is legally combustible we'll set fire to it! I've learnt how to make some of the best campfire s'mores too, so as not to waste the licking flames!  I must also encourage the importance of drinking plenty of fluids whilst supervising a fire, it gets blooming hot. White wine and ice cubes serves to keep you cool....or red wine...or beer...or cider....just keep your fluids up ok!

S'mores Recipe for bonfire snacks

Ingredients:
Marshmallows
Chocolate Spread
Digestive biscuits

Method:
Find a long stick, stab a marshmallow onto it. Toast it on the fire until gooey.
Meanwhile slather some chocolate spread onto a digestive biscuit.
Splot the marshmallow onto the chocolatey digestive biscuit, put another digestive on the top.
Squash it all down and enjoy.

Health warning:
These are horrendous for you, more than one may well be too sickly. However they will make you very happy. Try it and share it...in the words of Willy Wonka 'So shines a good deed in a weary world'.....

As you know by now, we have inherited lots of rubbish with the house. Piles of rotten wood, old furniture, tyres, a disused cannabis factory, and today we discovered a stash of citric acid (complete with warnings that injecting this will cause damage to veins), and a variety of broken sex toys and packaging for sexy outfits. I use the term 'sexy' pretty loosely - can vibrating panties ever be considered sexy? Anyone?

Our other 'preloved' finds today consist of: half a glass dildo (where the hell is the other half??), packaging for an obscenely long purple double ended jelly penis replica, a gold pleasure bullet, and an assortment of flavoured condoms.

I have considered renaming the house Hedonism Hall in homage to the rock n rollers that once lived here, and am seriously reevaluating my mundane Sunday's, Dave's washing his hands!

I am the god of hell fire

Wine, chocolates and fire

Roofers do it best on top...apparently....

When I first moved in, the ever knowledgeable Clive warned me that most old Forest dwellings damp problems are caused by the roof. We had a substantial damp problem, and I couldn't quite believe that this could be caused just by a roof. I wondered if it was coming through the walls, or down the chimney....anything but the major cost of getting a new roof. I really didn't want to believe this, but I knew deep down it would be true, even if it took me months to accept it!

Living in a leafy part of the UK, and especially so close to Wales, means we are prone to torrential downpours at times. On days where there was a particularly heavy deluge, we were treated to water pooling in the fireplaces, running down the walls, and dripping on the children's beds.  This would take days to dry out and usually meant the toilet cistern would be covered in condensation, which in turn blew the bathrooms new plaster....imagine my pleasure! One day I ventured up into the attic space to have a look, there was indeed beautiful sunlight coming through, a force 9 gale blowing, and an atmosphere damper than a rubbish pool party. Eventually I swallowed the advice I had been given originally, that yes, the roof was in fact buggered! I suppose it's a bit  like when the lid isn't put on something properly, inevitably it will eventually leak.

After a couple of false starts with other builders, my trusted buddy Clive was able to make some time in his schedule and agreed to take on the project. Although he did laugh at me when I cheekily suggested running repairs. No, this would be a complete new roof. I had also been given a gift by an incredible friend, to help me sort some of the roof, so I wanted this done quickly, in order for them to be able to see it come to fruition. Clive empathised with this, and with the help of Kirk they quickly got to work within weeks.

Day one of stripping the roof off, made it painfully clear that this really was an urgent task. Much of the roof was well over 40 years old, possibly some was from the original structure. Also the rendering had been put on the outside of the house perfectly in line with the facias, resulting in any water running off right down between it and the brickwork. Essentially trapping the water into the house. In addition to this there were bowls under holes collecting water, which hadn't been emptied perhaps for years. Balls of newspaper blocking up gaps (The Sun newspaper was dated 1981, and had a rather fetching pose of a good old British Copper next to a topless glamour model wearing his helmet....oooer), rodent turds in abundance, a couple of birds nests, and a woodworms all you can eat buffet going on. Even a couple of the main timbers needed replacing (I picked one up to move it afterwards and it crumbled in my hands).

What was more worrying, was that where we had lit the open fire in the sitting room over the winter, the timbers had scorched. The chimney pointing had been washed away over the years, so flames had been going straight into the roof. The house should have burnt down. Perhaps the only reason it didn't was because the rest of the roof was SO damp!! None of us could believe what we were seeing, or believe our luck.

The job actually didn't take too long in the end, in just over a week they had:
Stripped off all the old tiles and rotten wood, rebatoned and felted, removed old and added new timbers, put on new tiles, renewed all the flashing, mended, capped, repointed and painted the chimneys, sorted the guttering, removed the defunct ariels, mended, reroofed and cemented the porch.

I became obsessed with roofs, I'd drive by houses and think 'oooh, my roof is nicer than yours'...I became a roof monster with a superiority complex!

Incredibly in just over a month the house smells far less musty. I am welcomed home to new cracks in the existing plaster, flakes of paint all over the floor and I often hoover the walls to get rid of new drying out patches. BUT, we are home and dry! It is the start of a new era for the house, and many, many more jobs. We will be warm, safe and moisture free this winter, which gives us untold pleasure (and less chance of getting flu).

Someone asked me the other day how the hell I got a mortgage for the place....I replied 'I think the surveyor must have just driven by in a good mood, on a late Friday afternoon on his way to the pub!'

I must end this post with a huge thank you, and lots of love to those that helped me so selflessly with the roof. You know who you are....Thank you xxxxxxxxxxx

Scaffolding up

Stripping the old tiles off

Naked roof

Absolutely no pointing between the chimney bricks!

Sexy copper newspaper scrap (dated 1981)

Charred newspaper paper botches in the roof

Sexy flaunching

New pink batons

REALLY, seriously rotten timbers - how was it still standing??

Putting it back together

Ta dahhhh

My roof is prettier than your roof!