I was lying on the sofa, gutted that Germany's likeable but frankly headless sixth formers had just been kicked out of Euro 2012 by a bunch of Sicilian button men, when there was a loud explosion about 3 metres away from me.
I knew instantly what it was: an elderflower champagne bottle had detonated.
OH hurried downstairs to survey the damage. It had happened in the under-the-stairs cupboard and had affected not one, not two, no, three two-litre-bottles, the contents of which were now, stickily, on everything in there. The explosions had made a dent in the freezer and even managed to knock the freezer switch out.
OH rescued one bottle and carefully -- with safety goggles on -- defused the last "bomb" on the patio.
It's not really been our week: the constant rains mean the ground is now completely saturated and I am paranoid about rising damp, despite the fact that we've got DPC.
Still, I was able to take off some accrued overtime today so spent the day trying to lay the hearth for the stove. Because the mortar does what it wants, not what it should, and because all 36 pamments have individual thicknesses and sizes, what I've laid so far looks, well, rustic and aspirational but is neither straight nor level.
Soft fruit report: 680 grams of dessert-ready strawberries from the plot on Tuesday!
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