I have the decorator in today. I don't want him here, not today, not this week when life is frenetic, but you know these guys, when they say they will come and do the painting you have to agree, otherwise it could be twelve months before they can "fit you in" I used to do my own, I can't do it anymore, too old and painting that ceiling gives me more than a crick in the neck.
But it isn't the Painter that gets me down, it's the stuff you have to move, when you discover all the junk you have accumulated. Do I really need two tea sets...well no, but that white china with the slender gold rim was given to me by a good friend. It was her mother's and I know precious. Okay, that can stay - what about those tiny coffee cups with the thistles on them - we NEVER have small cups of coffee, well my friend Annette bought them for us. She died age 46 and sort of broke our hearts as we saw her as a daughter. Nope, can't get rid of that. I wish I could edit this stuff as I do my books, throwing out those sentences I so loved.
Vases - why do I want loads of vases? It's not as if I get flowers every week - hey come on, it's not as if I get them, once a year! But you see that was given to me when...
So picture me Saturday. I am longing for clean, flowing lines, nothing breaking the symmetry but that is not going to happen. I will be carefully washing all this stuff and putting it back. Some of these things I won't see till the Painter comes again. Ah, well...one day perhaps... but not yet.