The decorators left today. The scaffolders came to take the scaffolding away. We are, it seems, alone at last. I say alone. We are alone amongst the dust. Dust that has not been accumulated from skin or human hair, this is proper dust, plaster dust, dust that permeates every page in every paperback on every shelf.
Our neighbour has a cleaner. She popped round to quote to clean the house from top to bottom. She costs more per day than the painters. I could buy a very nice pair of shoes as a reward for doing it myself. The temptation to buy her in, though, is strong, stronger than builders' tea.
I have a meeting tomorrow. A meeting about knitting. Those that know me that this is a dream come true. I won't be just ranting and raving about yarn to those that tolerate my funny little hobby. I will be discussing knitting with someone who might, just might, pay me to help others knit. I'm a little excited. I will be more excited if I can find something to wear that hasn't gone a funny dust colour.