A surprisingly good egg

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The time to have our new bathroom fitted arrived last Monday. I shut the door as our old, wildflower patterned tiles, bought with such excitement when we first came here, are removed, and unceremoniously dropped into the ancient bath. Our old tub and pedestal sink are thrown away in the skip on our drive. The bathroom is empty and echoing. Pipes that have not seen the light of day for years are covered in dust and there is my bar of cracked dry soap dropped behind the sink an age ago.

On Tuesday a new bath is installed with the shower and shiny grey panels covering our old uneven plaster. I hardly dare look as the hammering and electric machinery are billowing out noise.

On Wednesday the flooring and cupboards are fitted. We have no water but plenty of music from a radio – I wonder why everyone does not use headphones these days. Our house is not our own. We are all tiptoeing around each other.

On Thursday there is water in the pipes and on Friday there is a modern towel rail installed and at last the floor is cleared. But it is not all over yet. One part arrived damaged, and another was the wrong colour. And so, we wait.

The good news is that Mr T has mowed the lawn which is a sign that spring is well on the way. We always say that the first mowing should be at Easter, so he is on time.

And another piece of good news is that Speckles the hen has started to lay again. After years of being eggless she suddenly produced. She looked as surprised as we were when we saw her Easter offering in a little scrape on the straw.

The post boxes in the streets are also sporting new toppers for the time of year. I have seen little knitted rabbits with eggs and chicks billowing on top of crocheted grass.

Everything is hopeful but amongst the sophisticated bathroom shine I do miss our old-fashioned flower tiles and our foxglove colours.

(Taken from my column in the Shropshire Star)



Post box toppers for Easter

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