A snag or two

Once a year, usually at the beginning of summer, it suddenly occurs to me that the entire house is about to fall down. The realisation that every job I’ve allowed to accumulate is about to visit disaster on me — my DIY judgment day — usually occurs around the May bank holiday when the air is filled with the sound of good people drilling.

This year I knew the day of reckoning had come as soon as I opened my eyes. I looked to the left and my giant black rabbit BB was sitting on the bed chewing through my mobile-phone headset, his mouth full of wires disappearing upwards like so much spaghetti. Everything is going to break today, I told myself. I opened the bedroom door and it fell off its hinges. When I sat down to ponder the probable causes, it seemed likely it was because of the slamming, which has long been a recreational outlet of mine but is ultimately an expensive way to express emotions.