Roofing

I rushed tiles from one part of the estate to the other. I rigged up a pulley system that would have brought a wry smile to Jack Aubrey’s face in as much as he might have thought, ‘That Stephen Maturin will never make a sailor.’

The Men of Steel arrived and helped haul the 150kgs of roofing felt in place using my ingenious methodology, me heaving up the folds from below with a chestnut stave.

They were soon gone back to the new site leaving me to batten down the tar paper in the fading light, the mineralised chippings cutting into my knees.

Earlier I tried to save a big black bee/ they’ve come out too early in this winter without a winter (extra).

PS: the electricians have almost finished, gawd bless ‘em.