When father papered the parlour (not)

We've known for some years that the front parlour needed replastering after years of damp penetration (which has now largely been stopped), and that the ceiling was in urgent need of repair. Finally the bullet was bitten, the (fairly very large) estimate agreed, and this week the room was cleared ready for the builders. Once they had hacked off the old lath-and-plaster ceiling (cue clouds of dust all through the house, despite protective screens) we could see that several of the joists had rotted away at one end, and the whole thing (including the floor of the bedroom above) was held up mainly by the power of prayer (which we don't do). Before they left they stuck in five acro props so that I could sleep in safety upstairs amid the dust.

The whole job will take around four weeks (because of time to dry the layers of tanking). The floor also needs a section replacing. Once it's done everything will have to be moved back and we can reclaim the other rooms, until it's time to redecorate - which I guess may be where the song comes in. 

Extras show some of the horrors, and props. No more papering over the cracks!