… the stinker that I was expecting last night.
Here I was expecting some kind of phenomenal temperature and all we had was a measly -14.1°C.
A bagatelle.
But it was cold up here in my attic this morning though, 8°C when I woke up. And that’s not surprising that the temperature up here is falling slowly. This cold spell has lasted well over a week and shows no sign of letting up
So after breakfast it was down into the firewood and I’m at the stage of looking for larger kindling because that’s getting low up here. I’ve worked my way through a big pile this winter.
I’ve brought up a large IKEA bag full from out of the lean-to, and that’s making even more space in there, which is good news because I’m at the stage where I need to think about moving things out of the house to give me space to start working elsewhere. It’s beginning to get too crowded in here.
Most of the rest of the day was spent working on the ceiling again, and I’m making good progress, even though I did manage to fall off the trestle thing that I’m standing on. i’m not quite sure how I managed to do that.
But I did find time to rescue the two coffee percolator things and give them a really good clean. I tried the big one on the woodstove and although it took a while it made a decent cup of coffee.
For some unknown reason it took ages to cook the spaghetti though and I’m going to have to think of a way to do this better or to improve my technique.
But I can see why in North America they go for tin-roofed houses. Although it was freezing cold outside it was bright and sunny. And the intensity of the sun must have heated the tin roof of the barn sufficiently for at a certain moment all of the snow slid off the barn roof and fell with a crash to the floor.
And that does rather remind me of the British Trade Delegation to the Soviet Union in the late 1940s. Having been warned about the possibiity of eavesdroping and hidden microphones, they diligently searched the room for hidden wires. And sure enough, they found four wires stapled to the floor under the carpet. A pair of nail scissors took care of them.
Next morning, one of the members of the Trade Delegation engaged the babushka – the old lady who monitors the corridor in the hotel – in casual conversation.
“How are things?” he asked, practising his Russian.
“You won’t believe this” she said “but something really extraordinary happened last night. For no apparent reason, the chandelier in the room under yours came crashing down to the ground!”
camera. And that’s just as well, considering the money that I spent on buying it. I’d be disappointed with anything else.
