The last few days of rain have meant that I have had to find things around the house to
So now I’m turning my focus on decorating the small bedroom. I say bedroom, it’s actually a storeroom for all our dust.
Seriously, I don’t know where it all comes from and it certainly doesn’t come from the air vent in the wall as, I discovered today, all the holes have been filled with concrete.
Is it any wonder that if you spend more than an hour in there the oxygen levels fall to the equivalent of being on the summit of Everest?
I popped my head into the hole earlier this evening and I swear I could hear John Malkovich’s voice.
The plan is to drill some of those holes open again and hopefully get some proper air flow going.
I’m also going to change the flooring. I took up the old carpet and underlay this afternoon and plan to replace it with laminate flooring.
I was pleased that finding hidden treasure isn’t limited to the garden.
Stuck to one of the floorboards was an old piece of linoleum flooring.
This was the type of floor covering I remember from my youth. Just about every room would have had it, usually with a rug or two to hide any worn patches. We didn’t have carpets at that time.
As a young child I remember the feel of the Lino under my feet and I remember how brittle it was, although Dad was none too pleased about my fascinating discovery and new pastime.
In the kitchen at the old family home, I remember Dad taking up the Lino floor exposing some old black tiles. I remember Mother wanted a blue Dandy Cord mat, which was duly installed.
One corner of the mat covered an indentation in the tiles below, just deep enough to hold a tooth and a sixpence.
I can only presume that Mother contacted the Tooth Fairy to inform it that teeth would no longer be left under pillows. I’m sure it was delighted to hear that it no longer had to drag itself all the way up the stairs with the cash.
Once teeth stopped dropping out, I found a new use for the little hollow under the mat.
I used to (still do actually) suffer from terrible travel sickness. So I would be given a tablet to ease the symptoms before we set off on any long journeys.
However, just the smell of the tablet, let alone the taste of it, would make me feel ill. Mother tried everything to make it more palatable, including incorporating it into a jam butty.
But I could still smell and taste it. So I’d find a way hide it under the mat while no one was looking.
I’m not sure Mother had much faith in the tablets, as she would always pop the pink ‘sick bowl’ into the car. Again, just the sight of it would make me feel nauseous, even now, just the thought… hang on I’ll be right back.
The tablet in the hollow under the mat routine worked well, until the one time I forgot to remove it on our return from several sleepless nights in a freezing cold and North Wales rain drenched tent, whose walls we were never allowed to touch.
Mother was none too pleased. Not long after that Dad replaced the floor with vinyl tiles that, over the years, developed an strange indentation near the spot once visited by fairies.
Stay non-bilious and stay safe.