They're back!

The builders, that is (and Masterchef, which is much more exciting).

Just doing a few odds and ends.

Front of house: weedy in summer, swampy in winter. Not good for the foundations.

The Supervisor is making sure they get it right.

Done. Not lovely, but affordable, and will improve with age and a couple of planters.

Back of house: you can't spot it here, but the rendering on the little back door's lintel is dropping to bits, as rainwater runs into it.

There's a trainee supervisor for the back of house. Catkin is getting braver, and having a rare moment in the fresh air.

I love this Heath-Robinson contraption with its wind-up handle; it spits wet mortar and pebbles onto the surface.

And the windows.

Next: the painter will come in, and then - who knows, I may be finished with builders for the moment. All that's left to do is summer-weather and-winning-the-lottery work.

The Supervisors will have to find alternative employment.

They say they'd rather take a well-earned break, thank you very much.

Next project for me (and Mountainear, who has kindly offered to help with design):

Hahahahahahaha

So my house is pristine, sparkling, perfectly tidy, all those other nice words you used to describe it? C'mon, you weren't fooled for a moment by those carefully edited and cropped photos, were you? Let's have a little tour.

We'll start in the dining room, currently my Room of Despair, as it gives access to the stairs, the hall, or the kitchen, and is in effect just a square corridor, with the old dresser looming darkly, domineeringly, over everything. This room is challenging.

At the foot of the stairs is a door that leads up from the dining room. Mind those two steps; one is fairly standard, the other is very shallow, and easy to fall up or down, as I do, frequently.

Push the door open, and we arrive at the stairs - only 9 of them, which after the 35 in my previous house, makes hoovering less of an ordeal. Notice that the same fawn ferny-patterned carpet runs through the entire house. The animals are making it their lives' mission to wreck it. I dream of finding beautiful old boards beneath (but suspect that I won't). That's another year's project.

On the bottom landing sits the still-wrapped large mirror that used to be over the sitting room fireplace in my last house. I don't know what to do with it yet.

Hidden behind the same door stand two wrapped-up - what? sheets of glass? pictures? more mirrors? I must have a look some time.

Be careful on the very steep stairs - few are the same height, so again, it's very easy to tumble down. At the top is a large cupboard.

Like the stairs, this cupboard is the only place in the house where my neighbours and I can hear each other, making us think that the staircase was divided in two many years ago, as they have the same number of irregular death-trap steps. 

The landing is irregular, with two more steps and a door leading onto a corridor for the bathroom and my bedroom. On the right, a doorway leads into a dark little lobby and two more bedrooms.

This landing is the real death-trap - it's light during the day, as there is a skylight; at night it's pitch dark, so there are little plug-in lights to save visitors from emerging from bedrooms, floundering a bit, then falling spectacularly down the stairs, and possibly damaging the mirrors breaking a leg.

Today I am engaged in emptying this cupboard, into which things were stuffed willy-nilly when I first moved here, and sorting out fabrics, bedding, curtains, pillows, making a satisfyingly large heap for the charity shops.

Its interior  is a rounded triangle in shape, going back about 4 feet at its furthest point, with crudely made shelves.

But this is no ordinary cupboard! No, it doesn't lead to Narnia; don't be silly.

It's the famous Flying Freehold - the f-word twice, as it came to be called - that caused my conveyancing solicitor so much grief. It extends into the neighbours' house, and on their landing appears simply as a curved wall. If you look carefully to the left of the interior wall, you can just make out a doorway. See it? This once connected the two houses - or what are now two houses; English Heritage's somewhat inaccurate listing states that the entire building, now next door's and mine, may have been three dwellings at one time, a malthouse at another, and possibly the local pub before then. Both our houses are higgledy-piggledy, and hard to make sense of, full of character and crumbling plaster.

But older locals tend to refer to mine as "May H's cottage" - May H having been the elderly owner at least three ownerships previously, when there were stone flags in the hall and a pervading smell of damp.

Later today, there may be shelves of neatly sorted bedding, spare duvets and pillows in the flying freehold cupboard, and if I don't manage to get low bookcases sorted out soon, the several still-unpacked boxes of books that sit reproachfully next to my desk - yes, that's more filing on top.

So, still thinking pristine? Immaculate? Tidy? Thought not.

Come back soon; I'll show you the linhay at the end of the garden one day, and destroy all romantic notions you may have about stone buildings before damp proofing.

Now back to that cupboard. I have a reputation for tidiness to live up to.

Corners of my cottage

Still things to do round here.

There's a lot of flat black and white in this cottage, and it looks very 'new'.

 (There's also furry black and white....)

I like it - mostly - although brilliant white paint is a modern invention, and not entirely plausible in an old, old building. It can look cold, and it shows up Flossie's huge wall paintings - her Studies In Mud - all too effectively. But it's clean, and crisp, and that's fine for some things, some areas, and woodwork.

The new utility will remain brightly white. There's some sensible advice about adding modern fittings to an old building here.

I like my old, wonky, thankfully-salvaged, door, now gleaming with new paint.

How could I have thought, even for a moment, of replacing it?

I like my new kitchen lights; now I can see what I'm cooking.

I like my battered old bread bins, filled with cat food and pet medications, sprays, pills and potions.

And there's grey. I love grey.

But I want a little more colour in a few areas, a little bit of a softer, warmer look.

Some is added by way of objects, cushions, or a cheerful blind.

Nothing much; just flashes, splashes, pops and surprises.

I have my useful books, full of ideas and inspiration, and a drawer full of paint charts.

So guess what I'm going to be doing on this bright, sunny day?

....the local decorating centre has a 15% sale on this month.

Watch this space!