Wednesday, 11 August 2004

I love the smell of tar in the morning.

Monday morning dawned somewhat damper than I'd expected, but even O'Swishity was optimistic that it would dry up and the Felting Lads would get the roof done by the end of the day.

We agreed that, horrific though the Good Deal at first appeared, it was indeed a Good Deal and will save me "years of trouble." Now I just have to shift around the Zip Millions to make it possible to pay him.

Anyway, the Felting Lads set to, one stoking up the tar boiler, the other stripping off the old felt.

They were only into their first cup of tea, when the heavens opened, and they had to rush to store all their equipment, including the cooling tar, in the garage alongside my mum's wordly goods which she refuses to have with her at the nursing home.

And it's rained constantly for two days now. Unbelievable. August!

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