Whimsy on a Wednesday bringing you delayed dispatches from the front lines of a kitchen renovation, holiday enlightenment, and mild suffocation!

Right, So It’s Thursday. Stay Alert.

Yes, yes, I know it says “Whimsy on a Wednesday” up there. But let’s not get bogged down in details or calendars. The truth is, it is Thursday, but that’s just part of my carefully curated plan to keep you on your metaphorical toes. You’re welcome.

Meanwhile, I’m writing to you from the crumbling set of what I can only assume is a tragicomic home renovation series: Dust & Despair. Picture this – dogs skidding across exposed concrete, me gasping like a Victorian heroine after climbing stairs and every surface covered in a fine layer of 2”dust that laughs in the face of my immune system.

I’ve never had asthma before but I imagine it starts like this: confused coughing and vague regret.

Demolition, Drama & the DIY Domino Effect

Now, before you say “why would you rip out your kitchen before a holiday?”, allow me to clarify: I’m an optimist. Or more accurately, I’m a short-sighted lunatic with a fondness for beauty and bad timing.

The plan was simple: new kitchen. But one does not simply get a new kitchen. Oh no. One must suffer for it. I decided (in my infinite wisdom) to redo the entire floor as well. Cue the sound of chisels. One enthusiastic grinder later and the copper gas pipe gave up its will to live. Gas leak. Whole house shut down. New pipes required.

The kitchen fitter then discovered that our waste pipe had been casually dripping into the abyss for what might be years. Thanks to an aerial installer with the aim of a blindfolded darts player, the pipe had been drilled straight through. Marvellous.

Meanwhile, in Sardinia (Still No Sardines)

In the midst of all this I escaped to Sardinia, one of the fabled Blue Zones which are places where people live longer, presumably because they’ve never had to deal with rogue aerials or dust-induced respiratory failure.

I swanned off, imagining myself becoming Zen and rejuvenated while the builders cracked on. Spoiler: the builders did not crack on to where I thought they might. Like I said, I’m optimistically deluded and think everything takes two days.

Sardinia was divine, though devoid of sardines. I braved the Tyrrhenian Sea which in early May has the temperature of cold fear. Upon entering, my body seized, my lungs went on strike, and my lips tingled in a way that felt suspiciously like death. Still, in true British fashion, I stayed in out of stubbornness. Numb to the core. Because of this I burnt my shoulders to a crisp despite my usual “go brown immediately” smugness. I suspect the sun was in cahoots with the salty sea, both laughing behind their Mediterranean hands.

Back to the Building Site (Starring Me and the Wolfits)

I returned serene, calm, and sun-sizzled, ready, I thought, to behold a gleaming new kitchen and float about in flowing linen with a cocktail in hand. What awaited me instead was a half-built house, dust, more workmen than floor, dust, and a deeply confused pack of wolfits who’d lost all concept of friend or food. And dust.

Currently, as I type, there’s:

• An electrician playing hide-and-seek with wires
• A kitchen fitter wrestling with a Butler’s sink and posh boiling tap
• A granite man lovingly stroking quartz
• A neighbour’s three brickies building a wall outside in my garden and asking why I haven’t put a flake in the cappuccino’s I made them!

And me. In the lounge. Wondering where I packed the saucepans and my Whitby gin glass. I’m wondering when I’ll next eat something cooked rather than assembled or cremated in the air-fryer. Maybe by tonight I’ll be able to boil water in style. Or perhaps I’ll lose another appliance to the gods of renovation.

From Zen to Planters – The Drama Rolls On

You’d think after all that I might take the weekend off. Put my feet up. Rediscover my inner baking goddess. But no. I’ve been summoned by the village flower group to plant up the public planters. The show must go on, and apparently, I’m the star of this week’s episode of Mildly Unhinged Woman Digs in Dirt While Wielding Trowel and Sarcasm.

But I do encourage it, really. The chaos, the comedy, the chance to tell you about it while breathing in a bit too much quartz dust. It’s all very… me.

In other news – Everybody needs a greeting card so you may as well have some nice one’s and support me in my goal to buy a lighthouse so I can be a beacon of positivity…  please feel free to purchase some lovely cards here