After 3 days of million pound cleans, it was a relief to return to our wee house in the glade. All builders listen to 'builders rock' on the radio. The pain of this is intensified when they are working outside and the radio - and us - are inside. Builders are meant to be gone before we come in, but timescales run out and it's everyone together to get it done in time. We will have to go in and polish everything up once they've gone before hand-over next Friday. Meanwhile, I shall have to e-mail my brother to ascertain the correct etiquette between builder and cleaning wifie. We vacuumed round their feet, scraped paint from under their finger nails, polished the fresh silicone out from under the bathroom mirror (specifically me), and final insult, changed the station on his radio (he'd been gone for ages and I thought he'd moved on, but was just out for lunch). He was coping okay with hearing his horoscope, and getting some good ideas for Christmas presents for his wife (local radio), but when Ronan Keating started crooning love songs in his ear, the strain began to show. So, good it's Friday.
Not so good for Spook who's still at work, nipped home for a quick bite to eat and expects to finish at 11pm. New poo spinner been put in at work today and has to be run for 4 hours to test it. Fitter wishing to be on the 10am plane out of Queenstown tomorrow. Got his schedule a bit wrong today, so hence the late night.
Meg staying home this weekend, but has Smithy staying over to wean her back into a weekend at home. She has her hair cut short and Finn will be under the knife tomorrow.
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