"OI! CHUBBERS! COME AND HOLD THIS!"
Those are the dulcet tones to which I awoke this morning. Gone are the halcyon days of: "Would you like a hot beverage my love?"
It took me a minute or two to get my bearings, because our new bed arrived yesterday and we moved the bedroom to the other side of the house. Because I didn't immediately spring into action, BB arrived at the foot of the bed and dragged me off by both feet. Isn't that grounds for divorce?
When France Telecom came the other week to move the phone lines, they refused to pass the line to our house underground because "it wasn't part of the original brief", thereby leaving us in a worse position, with the new line directly above where the crane is going to be. BB, with the aid of M. Poire's mini-digger, is having to dig a trench himself - for the third time in the same place* - before they will come back and move the line again.
I had to stand in the trench in my nightie, wiping sleep from my eyes, holding a marker to denote where the water pipe is, to avoid hitting it - again* - with the digger. It's times like this when a Wimpey home holds a lot of attraction.
The arrival of the new bed and the subsequent shifting of rooms was another excuse for a clear-out yesterday. I do love a good clear-out but unfortunately BB refuses to throw anything away. So I waited until he disappeared in the van to see Poire and then chucked everything I wanted rid of in the car and raced to the dump. The very nice (and handsome!) man there helped me unload, enabling me to get back before BB did.
* See next posting
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