There really was nothing for it but to go the long way round…
It didn’t take me too many minutes to realise
that when Mike the Plasterer turned up early this morning and advised me to keep all the doors leading into the hall-way firmly shut while he pulled down the ceiling. It was going to be very, very messy. Extremely dusty. Possibly dangerous, should I venture
out into the hall at the wrong moment. Besides, my lovely face mask decorated with a puffin (everybody loves my face mask, a sweet gift from my Little Sister) simply wasn’t up to the protective standard of the industrial dust mask sported by Mike the
Mike’s visit marked the latest step in the long and involved recovery programme following our recent Watery Emergency. Hopefully by Christmas
all will be sorted and I will have created a bright, welcoming entrance to our house. I am calling it the Welcome Project (I do like, as you know, to give my many and varied projects an appropriate title - I find it helps keep me on target when the going gets
tough. And the going is likely to get a whole lot tougher in the next month or so…)
Mike the Plasterer’s early arrival meant that I had to haul myself
out of bed rather earlier than I’d have preferred, given that I had been up three times in the night dealing with Mr B. All was forgiven, however, when I pulled the bedroom curtains on an amazing sunrise. “Morning has broken!” I trilled as
I trotted downstairs to break the news to Mr B that it was going to be a Challenging Day. Mike was not to be our only visitor - we were also expecting a visit from Mr B’s cousin John and his son. You are wondering, I am sure, why I didn’t put off
their visit to another, less challenging day, but we hadn’t seen them for so many years. We could, I assured myself (and Mr B), work around it.
it meant that, instead of being able to move swiftly between living room and kitchen for the purposes of making breakfast, keeping us supplied with cups of coffee, welcoming our visitors and the like, I had to take the long way round - out of the patio doors,
across the Room Outdoors, along the side passage, across the front of the house, making a right turn past the dustbins to reach the kitchen door. As I passed the open front door, I could peep in at the chaos - our hallway resembled a building site. It was
to be a good few hours before some semblance of order would be restored.
The best thing about taking the long way round was that my Fitbit is so very proud of
me. Every trip from living room to kitchen which would normally take just, say, ten steps took me over 100. There is a silver lining to every cloud, as they say.
My dear Dad often took the long way round when we travelled by car. Our first car, a black Ford (I think) had the registration number MUP 157. It’s strange, isn’t it, that I remember the number plate but can’t be sure of the make or
model of the car itself. The car was a trifle temperamental, as I recall, and had a habit of breaking down in the most inconvenient of places, including (oh, I was SO embarrassed) the middle of Rochester Bridge. Maybe that was one of the reasons why my Dad
would take the long way round - perhaps it was an Avoidance Tactic. I have been guilty of the same thing myself at times; when faced with a nasty right turn into fast-flowing traffic I will often turn left and drive to the nearest roundabout to get myself
and my Grand Old Lady back pointing in the right direction. Alternatively, I suppose Dad might just have taken a wrong turn? Either way, he would excuse himself merrily, avowing there was a lot to be said for taking what he called “the scenic route.”
Mike the Plasterer has left for now, leaving us without a ceiling until the wooden boards have all dried out when he has promised he will return to finish the job.
Meanwhile we had such a lovely catch-up with our other visitors and they didn’t mind at all taking the long trek round the side of the house, across the Room Outdoors,
and through the patio doors to reach the living room.
I told them it was the scenic route…