Trying to get some prompts in this weekend has been a non starter, my job is getting in the way, finding the subjects to write about is not really a problem, it’s the place to sit quietly which is the issue. Do I carry on into the late night, or do I try earlier?

The question as to when to write is one I’m sure a lot of you bloggers are familiar with. I suppose we all need certain conditions, and the mood too. I find I have many thoughts but no medium to record them, or conversely no thoughts and am surrounded by paper, phones and laptops. I’ve got some notebooks, I could use them more.

This isn’t at all what I wanted to talk about tonight, the weekend has been long and full of work. Who knew on Sunday, when I started to strip down the bathroom, removing the wall tiles and some of the floor ones, that all of the floor tiles would be taken up, the bath disconnected and the pipes capped off. We can no longer have a bath, and with hardly any warning either.

The Australian cricket team has admitted to cheating, the country is in mourning practically, the baggy green is the most highly regarded status symbol in the whole country and the team has single handedly dragged it unceremoniously infant of the rest of the world dragged it through the mud, it’s a shame the players did it. It’s bad for cricket.

This is where M nearly lost his footing, anything could have happened, it was indeed a close call. I thought these pipes looked like some wallowing Hippos, Shrawley style. Today, Sunday, we drove to the walk and then drove back from the walk, obviously there was a walk in the interim. Holt Mill was the destination, a beautiful old victorian Mill in the wood next to the brook, N tells me (undisputed lacking many facts, fact of the day) A politician lives there don’t you know? It could be Harriet Baldwin or any of the others, they’re all a bunch of c***s.

So by no fault of my own, I don’t think, the bathroom renovation is being activated rather quicker than I suspected it would, the bath gone. I have to completely strip down the room, emptying it all away until nothing remains, a blank canvas.

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