This weekend, we took over a tonne of plasterboard, rubble and 18-year old fibreglass insulation to the local recycling center. This sentence doesnt begin to convey the absolute horror of bagging, lugging, transporting and then finally climbing up a ramp to dump bagfulls of dusty, smelly bits of debris in a skip.
Every part of my body aches. And after that, for fun, we drove a Luton box van down to Dundee to buy a new bath for the downstairs bathroom. Rock, and as they say, Roll.
I understand more normal folks this weekend watched the USA hold England to a 1-1 draw, or even watched Lewis Hamilton win (not by actually driving faster, but by conserving his tyres). Lucky them.
Slumped on the sofa, steam gently rising from my head, I then treated my darling wife to 'Night at the Museum 2- Battle of the Smithsonian' - as she hadnt really suffered enough at that stage. No, really, this film is head to head with 'The Tooth Fairy' as the worst film of the century. Avoid.
Amusing unplanned incident of the weekend. Just loaded the van up for the first time (which involved constructing a 'slide' from the balcony to the inside of the van), sitting having tea in the conservatory, and we heard an enormous crash. 'Neighbours' we said. Till we went round to the side of the house, and found half of the balcony on the ground. That'll teach me (and my very rusty engineering skills) to lean bags of rubble against a very old, very fragile safety rail.