The house is now reduced to a shell. The devastation is complete. Maggie is really down about it and it takes some doing for me to stay calm. I keep telling myself that it will all be alright on the night. There is rubble everywhere, the paintwork inside the house is covered in dust, everything is covered in dust. We are reduced to wandering the streets or sitting out on the deckchairs amidst the piles of rubbish and tools. The house is just four filthy walls. We are sleeping in the back bedroom but we have to clamber over rubble to get in. We're as dirty as the house.
Bit of a blow when the architect came by and said we couldn't use the old, attractive wooden central beam or replace it with concrete beams. It has to be an RSJ, a steel beam, another little cost of 1,100e.
And we no longer have a working phone line so I'm doing this in a local Ukranian Internet cafe. Difficult to upload photos so just text for the moment.
A touch of extra joy too. Yesterday we went to a country bar to sit by their pool. I left the Mini in the more or less empty car park but that didn't stop someone bumping into it. They clobbered the driver's door which now has several small dents and scratches. I asked at the bodyshop today and we're only talking a couple of hundred euros (less than the excess). Thank heaven for Spanish prices. An expensive drink though and sad to see my 'new' motor bashed up.
An old, temporarily skinnier but still flabby, red nosed, white haired Briton rambles on, at length, about things Spanish
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