We had the builders over this lunchtime. Again. Poor sods, they must be getting so sick of us continually changing our minds, you can see their eyes starting to glaze over every time I announce that I have another idea...
The extension plans have been laid to rest in the graveyard of dreams, alas, we simply cannot afford it. Plus, if I am brutally honest, the thought of my house being a nightmarish pile of rubble for six months is daunting. So, the new plan is...divide up the existing third bedroom into an upstairs bathroom (albeit a tidgy one) and a single bedroom.
Sounds simple in theory, doesn't it! Mind you, the bathroom will be not even a 'can't swing a cat' in it sized bathroom. It'll be more a 'can't fit the cat through the door' job. But still, it will be an upstairs bathroom! Yip yip hooray! No more trundling downstairs in the wee small hours and tripping over in the darkness to have a pee. (I need the loo an excessive amount in the night, this is a big issue for me!)
I am officially excited though. Especially at the prospect of some swish, fancy bi-fold doors leading out into the garden (yes, now we get to it, the silly little things that make this mama a happy bunny, anything that has appeared in Period Living is a winner for me).
I am amazed, on an entirely different note, to discover that it is possible for a child to begin having whopping great tantrums at the tender age of 9 months.
We've had several today. The most fun was when I dared to remove the calpol spoon from his vicinity. My word. The speechless look of fury on his face as he went redder and redder, he actually physically couldn't breathe for a bit, as he was so livid. Then the screaming came. And the fist pounding. Eek!!
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