Welcome to my perfumed garden

Drinking coffee, nibbling on a hob nob, staring at the wall.

Oh man, I SO don't wanna do this thing and neither does Mark and we're sitting here, encouraging each other in idleness. Hey ho, I reckon, if we start at 12 - or 1, maybe *g* - work till five, that should see the thing done. Once the damp-seal's on, we can't do anything for 12 hours anyway (it says on the tin).

That should be enough, shouldn't it? (nod head, say yes. Thank you.)

So I'm browsing LJ, listening to The Archers, occassionally glancing at this LMFA email from Caro...

( Cut for LMFA ramblings )
Now back to contemplating the work that has to be done without actually doing anything. ::lifts coffee, dunks bikkie, stares at wall::

OMG!

Behind the bookshelves, the sofa, the TV - great, grey, muslin-like swathes of cobwebs and huge dead spiders - it was like the Adams Family set back there! ::shudders dramatically::

So, we moved the furniture then followed an epic hoovering session for the aforementioned cobwebby crisis situation (I may have destroyed whole ecosystems, possibly new life forms. If so, I beg all the gods for forgiveness). The wallpaper we'd hoped to paint over turned out to be beyond saving - falling off in sheets in some places, so, tis gone. So the wretched state of the Victorian plaster has to be skimmed over, like in the spare room (see Housely Renovations 1).

So another trip to bloody B&Q was required for plaster-skim, filler and more sticky damp-proofing gunk.

Mark has filled the canyons between the skirting board and walls.

I have damp-gunked the bit by the door (4 walls still to do).

I've skimmed the big wall - three more to go.

Next up, more skimming, more filling, taking down the non-functioning picture lamps and fitting of new lamps and switches that work - you know, actually, give out light. (amazing!)

So now we're camped out in the bedroom, bathed and fed; wine is being drunk, kettle crisps are in the offing; Top Gear in on the telly - all is well.