Ooh what a great weekend. Having finished a painting on Thursday and lost the shed key, we went off to Kent to buy a new bathroom. Hooray, our nasty old dirty beige ablutions chamber is to become crisp and white and clean and elegant. Then nobody will be allowed to use it because I want it to stay perfect forever. I then spent Saturday morning performing DIY tasks. I painted a chest of drawers green, with a few splodgy bits where it went wrong, for Mr Smith to house his vestments. Then I upholstered my chaise thingy that I bought last weekend. I did a sterling job and hammered in all my neat little upholstery pins but ran out. I will order more. Actually it looks better without them but I have started now so will have to consistently ruin the whole thing rather than just half of it. I then made a couple of matching cushions and also did lots of little mending jobs and was just thoroughly handy. Such a busy little bee. I was very tired at the end of it all.
We made a hideous mistake on Saturday night and ended up at a cabaret restaurant with a Tom Jones tribute man. Oh it was ghastly. We left. We won't go there again. Romney Marsh is definitely thirty years back in time with no Internet and hardly any mobile phones as you can't get a signal.
Somebody bought the house I wanted. I had my heart set on that house; it was perfect. Oh well, it's now someone else's dream home and I bet they rip out the aga. I might cry. I bet it was a developer. They will tart it up and sell it for millions.
Oh good, no hurry to sell the family hovel now. I am going to paint two pictures this week and feel contented. Mr Smith must not disturb my creative flow.
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