It's all go here.....The water system is now fixed - ironic that all through the winter the lovely rain was wasted because the water tank was not in use- and now it is, now the tank could fill up with the free wet stuff, no rain; that's life. Ah well. But G and B now do have the tank, a valid water company account - the first bill just arrived - and grey water can be used to water some of the vegetables for free, more or less. Oh and there also was a new door for the stove - Granny says was....because supplier of new door clearly didn't understand about woodstoves and the heat thereof, and last night while she Granny and Beloved sat innocently warming themselves the glass quite reasonably objected to what the flames inflicted on it and exploded with a mighty crack, rent from side to side twice over- the rending of the veil of the temple was nothing compared this, she tells you.. Nor was it Beloved's or anyone's fault - other than local ignorance about wood stoves - a shame what with Beloved having admitted - kind of - that the slamming of the old doors might have caused the original problem (you're not going to slam these doors, are you Beloved? - his very subdued 'no', said it all: and more.)
So another broken door and Mr Handsome will be going back to the glass place on Monday - though Beloved and Granny are now arguing about whether the news door should be metal or much more expensive glass. Meantime Granny has actually managed to settle down to a new book - has characters, a plot and is all set to produce yet another heap of paper to join those that haven't managed to find a publisher. The dire way things are in the literary world she can't imagine this will find a publisher either, but heigh ho, she's a writer, so away she goes, plus all that entails - waking in the middle of the night to write stuff down etc (small hours always seem more profitable like that than big ones when she is actually willing to sit down at her desk but nothing wants to come: sod's law.)
And anyway she can't get to her desk: not as much as she'd like. Simultaneously arrive the first guests to be lured by Alastair Sawday....Sunday till Thursday - so she'll have to be off making beds, planning meals, making cakes etc etc etc. Luckily the cleaner turns up this afternoon. So no more slumping in front of the now again working telly of an evening for her and Beloved. He will be playing Mine Host and she will be clearing up - not a division of labour she minds too much - forget the traditional feminist gripes: she will have spent dinner talking to the guests and thinks they will have had more than enough of her by then and vice versa. Beloved, bless him, is much more socially indefatigable and quite happy to go on tippling with them. Good.
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