My mother wonders why she can't phone us on the land-line yet. Here is the socket, in a sealed room, waiting for a paint-sprayer to be fixed.
Under the sheets are boxes that contain my clothes - those that weren't packed some months ago for what we thought was going to be an eight day camping trip; some food, which I imagine will now be inedible; our calendar with all birthdays noted; a large modular bookcase and many small boxes of paperbacks. Every so often something is missed and we hopelessly note that it must be somewhere within the labyrinth.
Slowly our shower room is taking shape. We spent so much time visualising how we wanted it to be. We shared so many pictures of bathrooms we loved down to the tiniest details such as the way the curtains had been hung; it seems like an old friend even before it has been completed. The room originally was a kitchen and in a truly horrifying state.
Be glad you cannot smell this picture! One of the labourers who came in to help clear away the old kitchen units had to be excused, the room made him feel so ill. It isn't just the dirt, it is the sadness of the room that it needs to purified of. With clean walls, ceiling and floor, the two large windows will let the sunshine do the rest we hope.