Chickens in a box

The evenings are drawing in, it's pissing down with rain and we are STILL cooking on the two ring gas hob, the only bonus is that now it's inside. Unless you have to use the BBQ, in which case it's to the bottom of the garden with you, to stand outside in the dark and the rain waiting for the snags to do. Today a young lad came over - straight round the back, no one bothers ringing the front door bell anymore - to tell me he'd been sent to 'tidy up'. LOL. OK.  So I showed him the sweater (that had been left out for the past two weeks), tarps floating round the garden, the mountain of scree and rubble in the drive that has blocked the way for the skip lorry to empty the over-flowing skip, or the porta-loo lorry to empty the (over-flowing? My God, I can't bear to even think about it) porta-loo. Most amused to see his eyes widen and blood drain from his face. Good luck with the 'tidying up' matey. A few minutes later, a man in a Defender turned u...

I'll start with the new kitchen. The short version of the story is that very little has happened in the last three months. We are still living in the dining room, eating food you can cook on the BBQ, a borrowed 2 x ring gas hob and in the slow cooker. Brick dust is embedded in the pores of our skin, spreads across every floor, sticks to the windows and coats every surface with a thin, rust-coloured film. Our meals consist of reheated mince, curry, hot dogs, burgers, anti-pasti and sandwiches. My September tradition of baking the Christmas cake is impossible, given we don't have an oven, as is James' birthday cake. What I wouldn't give for a fish finger sandwich. Today, as most days, I sit working; looking out at an empty wasteland of rubble. The only sliver of light in this depressing scenario, is that it's not raining. At the moment Alexander and Vanessa are over for a week en route to their incredible African honeymoon. We were hoping to do the Big Reveal o...