Siege mentality

WITH the builders systematically first tearing the guts out of our old kitchen, then much more slowly, fitting the new units and appliances, our home for the past week has been in a state of near siege.

My Good Lady and I, therefore, decide to decamp for the duration, and to set up home in a nearby self-catering cottage.

It seems a good idea at the time.

Unfortunately, the cottage, although modern, turns out to be a cold, heartless place, charmless and deeply dispiriting.

For four days and nights we endure a rather clinical existence while all the time fretting about what catastrophes might be befalling our kitchen, and longing just to get home and check on work in progress.

We resist the temptation; they have our mobile number, we tell ourselves, if they haven’t called it’s because there’s nothing to say. No news is good news, surely?

Meanwhile, we distract ourselves as best we can. Our friends, Mike and Helen, live close by, and they provide us with a welcome daily refuge from both our worries and our gloomy, pro tem home.

We’re also in an old stomping ground here. We visit Kendal, where I used to work and Arnside and Silverdale where we used to live, and observe how things have changed in our absence.

And yes, this side of it is quite interesting. Trouble is we have to return to our melancholy cottage, and to our worries about what’s ado at home.

Finally, Friday arrives. We pay our tab, and set off à toute vitesse to get home. Don’t quite know what we’re expecting - the house in a pile of rubble, perhaps, or a heap of ashes. I’m almost amazed to see it’s still standing there, much as we left it, the fitters and electricians and plumbers diligently putting the final touches to our new kitchen.

And it will look all very swish shortly, I'm sure.

And I feel almost sick with relief.

We went away to allow My Good Lady some respite from the stress of workmen around the place; instead, she's had to endure me in such a tiswas that I’ve been something of an ogre to live with this past week.

So convinced was I that something dreadful was happening, I simply couldn’t relax and enjoy our rural sojourn.

Next time – if theres is a next time – I think we’ll just stay at home.