sweatshop

The slave-artist in the attic has had a busy, driven day. This panel is going to be finished if it kills her, she says, while simultaneously cursing mightily and emphasising how much she's enjoying herself. She has a grubby sticking-plaster on one finger, and an aching back, and the increase in the sort of language that Nanny wouldn't like is caused by some very fiddly adjustments of the number 9.

Leading was fiddly too, with a bulge that took some work to eliminate, and the design had to be adjusted; hopefully no one will notice an extra strip of lead to one side of the number.

The hole in the 9 was worthy of some more unladylike expressions and a second glass-cutting attempt before the shape was right. My, but Aussies can swear!

Some snipping... some lead....

No one will ever notice this hole, but there wouldn't be a proper 9 without it.

Another long session, and gradually a day's work was beginning to pay off. A large bar of chocolate was eaten.

There was a pause for dinner: garlicky roast lamb, spinach, three kinds of beans from the allotment, and roast potatoes, ditto. But Tricia wouldn't stop to relax - back to her project!

The final slotting in of the plain glass. From nowhere comes an anxious thought: will there be enough of the blue glass for the rest of the border?

We'll worry about that later. These anxieties come when you're tired, and rational thought becomes elusive.

It'll be fine (there's another piece out of view).

At this stage, with no soldering, cementing or cleaning up, it looks rough and ready, but I know it will look splendid when finished.

Tricia has a weekend of family commitments coming up, and we leave for Scotland on Monday, hence the self-imposed pressure to get the transom completed. While she labours, I do meals, tea breaks, shopping, washing, admiring and recording on camera, and generally run about, arranging the final details of our trip to Scotland next week.

I talk to the Lovely Son who, bless his little cycling clips, agrees to come up and look after the house and menagerie in our absence, freeing up the street aunties, who I suspect were rather looking forward to the challenge of managing Millie in my absence. We are going to Mull, staying in a B & B where peace and tranquillity are assured. We don't care what the weather will be like, but the peace and tranquillity sound like heaven.