Real life | 21 March 2019

‘Don’t touch anything sharp. Don’t saw anything or drill anything or sand anything,’ said the builder boyfriend as he left the house.

‘I generally agree,’ I said, mindful of the fact that this is what the keeper used to say. ‘But I’m disappointed you include sanding, because I think I made a very good job of the living room floor, and now I’m going to sand the dining room.’

I truly believe there is nothing a deranged woman with a sander can’t achieve. The builder b and I are trying to get the last bits of the house finished so it is in a fit state to be sold.

We still harbour dreams — whether or not made of pipe — that the two of us will get our act together and move to a farm or smallholding where we will live with the dogs and horses far from civilisation, like Little House on the Prairie, or Misery, as the case may be.