In spite of Homeless Renovator’s Meltdown, progress was made and by 8pm we were in the pub with a drink in hand to recover from the day.
Dry January has been replaced by Wet February, it would appear.
I spent most of the day cutting plasterboard for the hall ceiling. Dressed in a dusty blue boiler suit I looked like a large grumpy Womble but it turned out I was quite good at cutting plasterboard even if the measurements were in inches, centimetres and millimeters. No wonder there were issues with the Mars probe.
And so to the last night at the little flat in Chalk Farm. Hard to leave, it’s been a fantastic three years and quite a leap of faith…