Bedroom Blitz!

I don't seem to have the time these days to update you on our progress with the renovation. Is it because we're living the life of Riley, painting the town red, lying down in a field watching the sky? No. It's because we have gradually become automatons who wake, work, eat, sleep. Despite the constant work, progress feels increasingly slow. You think I sound like Eeyore? No. I'm Tigger and Kevin's Pooh. Renovators have, at some point, got to come to terms with the fact that, if you're doing all of the work yourself, it's going to take a seriously long time. Wand-waving won't do the trick. 

I've completed the re-pointing of the master bedroom end-wall, inhaling a bucket of old mud dust in the process. Yes, I wore a mask, but it's never skin-tight, and it makes you breathe harder, thus dragging in more dust. I'm not dead yet (said the voice of Eeyore she's trying to deny).

Kevin has completed the installation of the second Velux window. We're still pretending we've forgotten about the dormer window we need to build on the other side of the room.

Our walk-in wardrobe is beginning to take shape, although most of our clothes are still in black plastic sacks. That's been the situation since we moved in two years ago. It's quite uplifting to find that you can live from a small 10kg suitcase-worth of clothes. All of those headteacher-y Phase Eight and Per Una dresses and matching cardigans have lost their power, not to mention the ridiculous mountain of tights... Tights! Although, they may come in useful under jeans in the fast-approaching winter, as we still haven't 'plumbed in' the wood stove; at the moment, it's a heavy little cupboard, ignored in the corner. Kevin worries that it's just waiting for the day it plunges through the wibbly floor into the cellar, where the monster toad spitefully resides.

I've made a 'rustic' door for the wardrobe in the guest bedroom. Can you see where I sourced the planks? Look closely. I gave them a good blasting of anti-woodworm and nuclear attack Xylophene.

Steel yourselves. You're about to find out something a bit sad...

We've moved our bed into the master bedroom while it's still a master mess. A building site. This is because my little brother and his family of five are staying with us.

Look. It looks like a space capsule or a quarantine chamber. And, to make it more homely, there is a family of pipistrelle bats up at the top of the end-wall. They're thoughtfully confining themselves to the spaces inside the metre-thick wall, so their guano is not interfering with our sleep.

Kevin decided to sort his clothes. At the end of the day, they were sorted back into their black plastic sacks.

People living in quarantine chambers with bats shouldn't have to suffer further downturns in luck, but that is precisely what has happened. The second love of my life, the ride-on mower, snapped its fourth belt! They cost 60 Euros and this one lasted about three acres. Not good. A belt is supposed to last a year of hard labour. Well, I say they cost 60 Euros; they do when Kevin goes to the shop. I was charged 45 Euros for the third. Although, to be fair, Kevin was given a free replacement the first time it pinged. Kevin has now been back to the shop and has secured a top of the range Continental belt. We can't test it yet, as it won't stop raining. It's August. This is the South West corner of France. I have to say that I'm disappointed... and also glad. Glad, because we haven't invested in a swimming pool. (Yes, I can hear Eeyore too...) 

There is a little bit of 'perhaps-good' news. Kevin thinks he has discovered why the belts are being shredded so swiftly; one of the wheels the belt tucks round had a very scratchy-stiff bearing. We've got a new shiny one. Can't wait for the rain to stop so I can test it!

Oh my goodness, please cast your eyes over the stairwell! I've been up on a ladder today, filling the screw holes and gaps. Well, Kevin did have to come and support me when the task drove me to tears, but... I did do the lion's share of the task. That may not be true.

The master bedroom continues to absorb our energies... And yet looks no different, really.

The walk-in wardrobe is now home to some clothes! It's not finished yet, but early occupation is the way we roll. You've spotted the fake red orchid, haven't you... Little things like that make it more bearable.

The walk-in wardrobe is also home to the loft ladder. Kevin often shows people (and me) the loft ladder, as though it's a highlight of the renovation. I still can't work out what's going on there... He showed it to me again today; I think he's forgotten that I live here.

Lying in bed view

Kevin's end of the walk-in wardrobe. Yes, it IS difficult to walk in when the loft ladder's down.

The landing is a special place, as that's where the outlet from the tumble drier hangs out; it makes for a very fragrant little space. One day, it'll go through the roof and expel its hypnotic odours to the unsuspecting French sky. It might help to mask the aroma from the fosse septique.

The guest bedroom wardrobe door in situ!

I know. Its charms are undeniable.

Pipes? Of which pipes do you speak?
Ah, yes. That's where the radiator will go once we've plumbed in the wood stove...