Today marks the end of the cycle of workmen visiting our house with their banging and sawing. The boss gave me the final bill (about 25% of the total), but I pointed out that the floor layers had broken the door and that it should be fixed first. He didn't like it, but I said:
"Look. Our kitchen door was working before you arrived. Why should we not expect it to be working when you leave?"
He made like to spit feathers, but got on with the task of what I believe is called "making good". He made good, the door is restored and now I will pay. The whole project has come to some £16,000, and to be fair, they have taken exactly 3, rather than the 4 weeks they originally projected, so I suppose I shouldn't complain.
All that now remains is to put back the houseplants and a few other things still languishing in the garage. So before my wife leaves for the Holy Land next week, it should be pristine in all its faux-Victorian glory.
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