Up ... since ... five ...

And until 9.30 pm last night we thought we were doing so well.

Some of the reputtying on our reinstalled windows is not great. Or indeed existent. So we went to B&Q, we got some glaziers’ putty, we went home, we very carefully dismantled our living room window – the smallest of all the ones needing work – we laid the two halves out on the kitchen table, carefully squeezed putty into the gaps where it was needed, smoothed it down, gave the windows a wipe ... I tell you, we were pretty proud after all that. Took the better part of an evening all told, but hey, we were working together. Husband and wife. A team.

The reinstallation didn’t include repainting, either. A few days ago we booked a decorator, tentatively for later this month with the proviso that he would come earlier if another job fell through. And at 9.30 pm – just as we’re completing the reassembly, quietly self-satisfied and ready to think about maybe a cup of tea and then turning in – he phones up to say that he can come today at 8.30.

Oh. Bloody. Hell.

There’s nothing like a bit of warning for removing curtains, packing stuff up and general clearing away. Sure enough, this was nothing like a bit of warning, so cue a frantic hour of removing curtains, packing stuff up and general clearing away. Then to bed, then up at (yup) five this morning for yet more removing curtains, packing stuff up and general clearing away. Five o'clock! I didn't know there were two of those in a day. This must be what it’s like having small children.

So ... very ... tired ...