The tall kitchen cupboard arrived this morning...in a very big lorry driven by a small man. He and Himself huffed and puffed and edged sideways through the gate carrying the long and awkward package while the little dogs skittered about under their feet...
I shrieked at the dogs to come indoors this instant or else the nice man in the very big lorry would squash them and it wouldn't be me going out with a shovel to scoop up their remains...they looked a bit taken aback by that and came in and sat on the package...
After not too much muttering and swearing Himself has put it altogether and it's in situ in the kitchen...
I've ordered another small cupboard as well...given up asking please may I have, and now I just go ahead anyway 'cos asking nicely for fifteen years didn't work...but having a smaller unit in there as well means the dresser that Cindy gave us will have to come into the sitting room so the big old trunk will have to be squeezed into the bedroom...to make room for the dresser....
And I'm going to have proper curtains with a proper curtain rail in the sitting-room...at the moment they are a pair of cotton sheets dyed green hung on a bamboo cane from the garden...they don't look awful or anything...a bit weird I suppose though...but Himself insists on curtains whereas I wouldn't bother at all. The windowsill is so stuffed with plants, and a demi-john of what looks like glutinous soup but is actually Blackcurrant wine, that there's no chance of anyone seeing in...so if he wants curtains, then we'll have proper curtains.
Much of Himself's reluctance to have a proper curtain rail is the thought of having to drill holes in the wall...making holes in solid lumps of rock isn't easy even with the right kind of bit...
It always amuses me to visit someone, who like us, live in an old stone built cottage 'cos their pictures are hung on the walls at all kinds of levels...depending entirely on where they happened to find a bit of a gap between the stones so a nail would go in and stay in...often as not the gap is so big due to the stones settling, that you have to virtually fill it in again before the nail will hold tight...
We knew an elderly lady when we were in England who lived in a Tudor cottage which had sunk down one end...every item of her furniture was balanced on house bricks to level it up and the crooked little stairs which led upstairs were sort of leaning over to one side and you had to walk like a crab to stop from falling over...the stairs were safe enough 'cos they had been built onto the wall as it were...and the wood they were made from was beautiful...so rich and dark with the patina of hundreds of different hands and it felt as soft and as glossy as silk...
Quite unlike my new kitchen cupboard, which was made from something supposed to look like wood that smells faintly chemical and certainly won't last for the next five hundred years!