Pissing In My Shed

Yes, we're getting the bathroom fitted which means I've taken to pissing in my own shed.

And actually, it is not without it's own sense of satisfaction in a rustic, olfactory, man of the woods sort of way, and indeed reminiscent of my grandparents' outside lavvy.

I have taken precautions of course. I have written on the selected bucket "Do Not Drink" in thick marker pen, although I appreciate that this sufficient only to warn literate natives. However, I am the sort of chap that would assume that the rest wouldn't care that much.

Meanwhile the work continues, not without it's snags. The top of the unit doesn't fit so I needed to source a new one. The journey to B&Q was delayed this morning by an inconsiderate tree that fell across the North Circular seconds before I arrived. I don't know what made me more angry; the hour waiting for it to be moved or the fact that I have neglected to bring my camera. It was a big tree which managed to straddle all three lanes.

Naturally, B&Q didn't have what I wanted, so I wendled my way down to Camden where I found what I needed, but incurred a parking ticket for going FOUR MINUTES over the metred time! It takes that long to write the fucking ticket out for fuck's sake, as I explained to the grinning warden who was completing the ticket. Cheeky bastard.

Price of unsuitable worktop (to be abandoned): £55

Price of new worktop (available Friday, on the builder's last day: cutting it a bit fine) £78

Price of Parking ticket: £40.

We could get two tickets to Barcelona and back for that!

Nice new bath though!