Far from being totally inept at DIY, there are now two stud wall frames proudly in place downstairs now, seperating out the new downstairs kitchen and the bathroom from a newly crafted entrance way. We even found a bargain at the local DIY place in a new sink and pedestal for less than half the usual cheapest price and as a brucey bonus good soft wood at bargain sale prices. And while the latter are now cut up in a nice and orderly sized pieces which have since been hammered into the walls, the new bargain kitchen ceremics are quietly sitting in one corner of the debris strewn room hoping in their little brown boxes that some random wreaked rubble won't damage them.

So after three days of solid graft, I now ache in places I never knew were possible. Slamming my body into sides whilst nailing and screwing large rough bits of wood into the wall, swinging rather large mallets to set pieces flush to the wall and playing with some rather large man sized power tools that needed some umph put into them.

Mmmmm - powertools!

I now understand some of the satisfaction that Girlpants gets from routers, drills and pneumatic nail guns, whilst striding around wearing big leather toolbelts. The power, the adrenaline rush and the mere satisfaction of doing something manual which actually stood up after 20 minutes of being fixed. The heart ache and desperation of mis-measuring and cutting new wood a full 10cm's under length, of 3 inch nails not gripping properly and of random holes that suddenly appeared in plasterboard as wood was gently knocked into place. With so much passion, our Herculean efforts could have surely given Olympic gold a run for it's money,

whilst dressed in blue plaid.