It's raining. We are having a new lounge carpet fitted. We are to clear the room completely. Small cottage. Husband's Plan B is put into action. Testing of patience ensues.

Plan A was to move all items either into the small back garden or out of the front door into the lane, as you enter our lounge directly from outside.

Plan B is to dismantle bed to make room for dismantled dining table and anything else we can haul up the stairs. Television and accessories are squeezed into bathroom and dog basket into the bath. CD rack and contents are in the shed and the couch is under a tarpaulin outside the front door. Recently acquired heirloom, great-grandmother's oak dresser, now stands in the galley kitchen, leaving just enough room to put the kettle on for the carpet fitter. All done!

So where am I? Tucked in the corner of our spare room by my desk, surrounded by all manner of small items from the lounge, but I'm happy, I can operate my computer and Max (our Tibetan Terrier) is happy too, sitting under the desk at my feet. We are cosy, Classic FM drowns out the sounds of the fitting downstairs of our new striped green carpet, and I'm inspired to write, what more can a hungry writer ask for. Another new carpet?

PP