July chez nous was dominated by house renovations. Our existing bathroom and shower room weren't so bad but a couple of bits needed replacing (a bit like me) so we decided to go the whole hog and blitz the lot.
It's taken almost a month tor the work to be completed, during which time I've been confined to barracks on tea making, question answering and decision making duties. I found myself quietly (mostly) crawling the walls with cabin fever yet again, but this time to the sounds of songs of the 80s, sung very loudly and somewhat less than pitch perfect, with a cocker spaniel providing backing vocals.
But it's finished and we now have a swish wet room and a pristinely white bathroom, which just need a few faffy bits adding here and there to complete the look. So far, I'm managing to keep everything sparklingly clean with the help of a couple of packs of e-cloths (thanks to the couple of bloggers for introducing me to these) and forcing everyone else to use the facilties elsewhere (just kidding....maybe). But who knows how long until I throw the e-cloth in? All bets are off.
July is the Boy's birthday month and we celebrated at Pizza Express (his choice) and, of course, with cake. This year's offering was a chocolate and salted caramel popcorn creation which involved a first, and possibly last, attempt at Swiss meringue buttercream (life's too short for all that whisking). It wasn't perfect (the chocolate sponge was moist but strangely crumbly), I couldn't taste it (made with several blocks of butter, this was the opposite of vegan) but it was well received, the candles were blown out as a wish was made and every last crumb disappeared.
Books have been featuring as usual, despite all the upheaval of bathroom works. Highlights were I Remember You, a spooky tale, from Iceland's queen of crime fiction, about three friends who set out to spend a week renovating a dilapidated property in a remote abandoned village. Meanwhile, the police are drawn into revisiting the cases of a couple of missing children. I found Norah Webster , which has been sitting on the book pile for quite a while, more enjoyable than the earlier Brooklyn. Norah, a mother of four, is newly widowed and this is the story of her adjustment to life without her husband in a small Irish town in the late 1960s. The Night Visitor is a claustrophobic tale. Two women, one a writer and respected historian, the other an older, socially awkward housekeeper, and a big. fat. lie.
A hefty book at over 700 pages, A Little Life has been described by many reviewers as a moving, tear inducing, all consuming read and it's a book I've been avoiding. The time is now right. I'm going in.
Boo is still not fully recovered from his recent major surgery and appears to have, erm, sprung a leak (not bladder related, if you were wondering). The vet is puzzled and consulting with a colleague, whilst in the meantime Boo, to his embarrassment, is wearing nappies.
The littlest and his mama paid us a visit one weekend so, armed with a picnic and Monkey, off we went to the RSPB reserve at Saltholme. I absolutely love this place, with its wide open spaces, wetlands, industrial backdrop and reminders of the town's heritage.
I've fallen out with all things culinary and proper meals have been few and far between here lately. Following the latest trip to the supermarket, dinner has turned decidedly pastel. And very sweet. Classy, no?
As for the continuing heatwave, I'm saying nowt.