Same old, same old

Some of you have gone quiet, and some report that you have nothing to say on your blogs. I feel a bit like that too. I sit at my desk, and my mind goes blank. Nothing bloggable is happening to me.

Although, really, lots of things are happening, but I've been here before with most of them, and so have you, dragged along in my wake. Bathroom, utility room, shower room; so many hours of renovation-blogging from my old house! How we suffered together!

So what; let me drag you along in my wake yet again, and tell you about the latest round of knocking a perfectly-reasonable house into a new shape. Again.

It means dealing with builders, plumbers, tilers, online window-shopping till my brain liquefies with the tedium of comparing dozens of toilets and cisterns, shower trays and mixer taps; doing the sums, having a bit of a panic, giving myself a stern talking-to ("do it properly; don't cut corners; you don't want to be re-doing this in 5 years' time because you were too mean to buy quality"), and going back to the blaring websites, each of whom proclaim that they will undercut their competitors.

Why a new bathroom? It looked absolutely fine when I viewed it, although as I could only see the very top of my head in the mirror over the basin, I guessed that the people who had installed it were considerably taller than me, and I was proved right.

It has to be changed because I can't get in and out of the giant bath very easily, being short and less than nimble; it's a fall waiting to happen. Because the electric shower over the giant bath is feeble in the extreme. Because I want a walk-in shower that will see me safely into my dotage. Because  - well, you don't want to hear about the toilet and its moods. I'm having a new bathroom again, and I'm bored with the planning and shopping already.

Where I shall put Catkin's private litter tray has yet to be decided; at present it is a decorative addition to the bathroom until such time as she decides to stop being the Upstairs Cat who only makes an appearance downstairs for dinner. (And breakfast. And snack times. The Lovely Son was right: she is a cat who moves only to search and devour.)

The bathroom isn't being started yet, but the new toilet has to come first, as part of the work to create a proper utility room beneath the bathroom, and needs to be moved several inches along as the rusty old soil pipe is being replaced.

The utility room creation scheme is something I do get a bit excited about (I know, I know. It's sad....). It used to be the side path outside the house, and was roofed over many years ago with now-discoloured corrugated plastic sheeting. It has crumbling stonework and a decrepit back door, and is the home of many, many spiders. It was almost empty when I viewed the house.

And now it is a disgraceful repository of all sorts of homeless stuff: appliances, plants, the cats' Monstrosity, from which Millie watches the enemies next door, assorted cleaning products, the giant cat tray that no one but Lottie uses now that they have my garden, and much more that will one day be tucked away tidily in cupboards when they are built.

The floor slopes down to the open gully; the washing machine judders downhill, despite much packing beneath it, and its plumbing connector leaks, so that the concrete floor is always wet. All this will change. 

I shall say no more, but will only hint that I am deeply in love with charcoal grey slate flooring....

Come back in two weeks' time, and see how it's getting on. What d'you mean, it's too boring to contemplate another visit? There will be a sink! A worktop! Cupboards and shelves! Best of all, a level floor! How could you resist?

Good. See you soon.