Indoor Icicles

Today was the day. My new kitchen window was being installed. I tried not to think about there being NO window during the swap. I stashed the cats in the bedroom and at waiting for the fitter.

Then a phone call informed me that he could not get out of his drive. This company has pissed me about so much I only stayed with them because it was impossible to get the window done before Christmas by anyone else. If they'd got it right from the start, the window would have been in weeks ago. I was not happy. I was not calm. Holding out no hope, I let the cats out.

An hour or so later, with no further warning, he arrived.

Not only did he rip out the old window, he left the front door open the whole time, popping in and out for things. My light grey hall carpet is a complete state. (Why did I buy light grey again?)

This is the scene in the kitchen with one section of the new window tentatively in place, and a hole where the rest should be:


Many cold hours later, with the back door opened to keep the front door company, the window is in:

There are still two problems, however. One is that the burglar alarm sensor went on tamper alert, and the engineer couldn't make it before tomorrow. The other is that a leaking 100-year-old cast iron downpipe next to the window has created a damp patch, and the plaster has turned to powder. So tomorrow a builder is coming out to see if he can fix those faults.

After so much cold and NO food since breakfast, I needed a hot repast. I'm trying a new type of potato. It's purple outside

and inside

Baked, with butter and some baked beans, it managed to warm up the inner woman.

Meanwhile, getting in the two cats who managed to stay out all day in the snow has proved harder than I thought.