The flat

So we have been living in the flat for just over a week. And it acutally looks like a home. Even the second bedroom (previously not dissimilar to a scene from Baghdad) looks like a normal (if rather messy) bedroom.

We are still missing a lot of stuff (wardrobe, curtains, bin and bathmat for bathroom - you know the things) but perhaps the main thing we (well, I) am desperate for are shelves. I come from a family of readers (and 4 literature degrees, including my own) and accumulate approximately 4-8books a month. I literally have crates of books (21 to be exact) and at the moment they are the main culprit for the state of the second bedroom.

My father's DIY skills rival those of a meerkat. They are non-existant. And should he ever attempt anything, the mess and destruction and temper that follows really do not make it worth it.

On the other hand, the Boyfriend's father is some sort of DIY diva. He can do anything, has a shed of power tools, and the patience of a saint (this is clearly the main component lacking in my own father).

So on Sunday the Boyfriend's dad popped over with several crates of scary looking tools, and settled down to teach the Boyfriend the ins and outs of shelf building.

It took a LONG time. After half an hour, with still absolutely no prospect of getting out the big drill (they were still measuring and drawing piddly lines with a special pencil and holding a spirit level (?) - sounded like something out of cheerleader film Bring It On) I got bored and started to watch X factor on catch-up.

Another hour later, and STILL no drilling. Patience is definitely a virtue in DIY.

By about 7pm the Boyfriend's dad went home, leaving the Boyfriend alone with the power tools. By 8pm we had no shelves, a lot of holes in the wall, and just three out of a potential 12 brackets hanging precariously out of the wall. The aura of calm had disappeared.

We have done nothing since. So the visually pleasing aspect of living room is no more. Although the Boyfriend does have today off, so they might be up and finished when I get home. Or I shall return to further destruction and a boyfriend with a temperament similar to mine with PMT. Wish me luck.