Well, two further steps have been taken towards a more finished home - we've got a new bedstead and we have working chimneys.
The chimneys were the easy bit. The sweeps came to visit. Apparently there was little up the chimneys but a few cobwebs and the smoke bombs showed that the flues were intact and don't need thousands of pounds worth of work doing on them.
So, last night, whilst we watched television, we stoked up our first fire and
burnt some of the branches that I hacked down when I began clearing the
garden some three years ago and which have been drying out in the garden shed
awaiting this very day.
Meanwhile, upstairs, the old bed went.
This is a sad day. I bought that bedstead in a shop on Hanover Street
with my mum in the spring of 1980.
It's been a part of my growing up and my maturing. It's been in every house that
I've owned travelling from Liverpool to Burnley, to Liverpool, to London, to
Crosby. And it's seen some action.
Which has been part of the problem.
Ross and I have already had to resort to a variety of restorative works to prevent it from falling apart on us. So, it was time to take another bold leap and move forwards. And there is something symbolic about a couple buying a bed together.
We did some research, visited a few places and found this one in John Lewis.
Apart from being quite elegant and not swaying every time one of us moves, there
is an added sturdiness from the way that the slats are split into two and
supported underneath by two legs. All in all, it's a very stable sleep we've
had in it. 