Lottery

I was so tired coming home from work this evening, I thought I'd fall asleep at the wheel. We were up until gone midnight last night pouring over plans and marking on electric sockets, switches and aerials, for which I devised a nice little key in four shades of Ella's best coloured pens. The pens turned out to be sparkly pens but to be honest, I was so tired that I couldn't physically get up from the chair to swap them, and anyway, it's not every day you're presented with a nice glittery diagram, is it? Matt the Spark probably thinks I've lost it.

This morning we met with the kitchen designer, plumber and electrician, all of whom pitched up simultaneously at 8am and all wanting to discuss 'what goes where', so it was fortunate we were both able to get to the house. The window fitter, roofer and joiners were all working away by 8.15 - the house looked exactly like that programme '60 Minute Makeover', though unlike said programme, nobody was painting over my woodchip to give me a 'nice surprise.' (For the record, I'm not a fan of 60 minute renovations, which is why I'm making sure there's nothing left to renovate in this whole house. No nice surprises for me, ever).

We'd given plenty of thought to the electrics, though completely failed to notice that there was no wall space for light switches in the bedroom and ensuite, which meant a quick redraw of the stud walls and word with the joiner. And there's the issue of whether you'd have your outside lights all on at the same time - single switch or double? How many downlighters does one kitchen need? Where will we plug in the toaster? The hairdryer? My fingers when I've had enough?

To be honest, it was a relief to arrive at work, where I immediately telephoned the man who quoted for the driveway (Frank the Slab). He's been out to quote for the patio too, but nothing has appeared in the post. Frank's wife answered the phone, a voice betraying a 20-a-day habit and two grandchildren called 'Lambert' and 'Butler.' Frank wasn't home, she said - he'd popped to the co-op. By the time he called me back, I was in a meeting, so he left a Norman Collier message telling me he was coming back this evening with his lad, Terry - or at least I think that's what he said - the Norman Collier impression really was excellent and I heard only every third word.

'And this Quote our Terry gave you for the drive, it's wrong. I've got it £3,000 more expensive.'

'That's a shame' I replied. 'Cause I haven't got another £3,000.'

This week, I'm buying a lottery ticket.