The Stove Men arrived bang on time at around 8.45am with their van and their massive ladder and got down to work. All good, all going to plan. Time to have my shower.
It's 9.20am. The doorbell rings again. OH goes to answer it, then galumphs upstairs.
"It's Vinyl Man."
Me: "What? Today?"
OH: "I know. I thought we'd said tomorrow, alongside Cavity Wall Man."
Me, in a sudden panic: "The state of the bathroom! We haven't cleaned it yet! The old lino is still in!"
OH: "You get dressed. I'll hoover the bathroom."
So now we've got the Stove Men in conducting their lively conversations over two floors, shouting through the chimney, and doing a bit of leisurely drilling, while Vinyl Man, a quiet type, gets on with cutting the plywood underlay outside in our street with a massive rotating saw. The curtain-twitchers are being given quite a performance today -- maybe we should charge.
OH is trying to keep out of the workmen's way but is failing badly at it because it just interests him too much. I have to stay in my room well out of their way because everytime I listen in, I hear them discuss yet another unforeseen obstacle that means one of them has to dive out to the depot down the road to fetch this bit or that bit, and I get wound up and am just waiting for them to come up and say, sorry, mate, we can't do it today because [insert bullshit excuse].
OH, ever the optimist, thinks I'm too negative and looks forward to giving them all a great big fry-up for lunch to keep them motivated.
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