I fear I am no longer popular with the neighbours.

Our plasterer let us down and failed to turn up to take the kitchen ceiling down. The kitchen ceiling was, if you recall, completely blown by the shower leak a number of weeks ago and the plan had been to take it down then install the central heating. The benefit of this approach is it allows the plumber to run the pipe work along the joist.

Oh don’t I sound all technical.

Anyway he (the plasterer) no showed. At this point I had one of my bright ideas – yes run for cover – and I decided I would do it myself. I mean how hard can it be right?

Bloody hard as it turns out.

We have a lathe and plaster ceiling, these things seem to be pretty much indestructable – leading me to some degree of sceptiscm over whether it had actually blown. Cue me dangling from a ladder swinging a hammer like some kind of demented hobbit with a personal issue with plaster.

I emerged two hours later, choking and a new colour: black sporting charcoal grey taffro. It’s what all the cool guys are wearing this season. So the ceiling is down, I still have plaster in my hair despite a bath and the kitchen looks like a scene from the end of the world.

Having ripped half the kitchen out now, half the bathroom not functionng and enough rubble to fill a small skip it occurred to me that we’ve probably reached a tipping point now. We basically have to motor on or we won’t actually be able to go on living here.

I’ll keep you updated here on a Sunday from now until I get bored with it. Probably only of interest to family and friends but there you go – that is one of the functions of the blog.

I’ll show you a picture of the kitchen as soon as I can walk again.