Day 289: Getting Wood

A day of industry and movement.  The sash window in the sitting room is removed completely, fixed and put back.  There is new architrave on the front door.  New skirting board.  Rotten window sills chipped away and replaced.  There are swear words and many cups of tea. 

I am despatched to a trade timber yard, which appears deserted until a man zooms up in a forklift truck.  He grunts at me.  I tell him what I want - 1.2m 75 x 75 PAR (yes, obviously I want it PAR - I may be a civilian but I can pretend I'm not).  He nods, and accelerates away, beckoning me to follow him.  I trot after the forklift obediently like a dog in a farmyard.  In the office, where I pay a stupidly small amount for my piece of timber (never again, B&Q), I am eyed with suspicion.  I'm not about to divulge that I'm running an errand for Mick the carpenter.  By my silence I am implying (worryingly) that it's quite possible that I, a lady, am replacing a window sill myself.  (This is pure fantasy on my part - I'm happy to attempt most DIY jobs, but window carpentry is just a step too far.  Know your limits.)

The house smells of fresh wood.  Exciting.