I perform some wiring.

Since the disappearance of the Methodical Electrician (who subsequently reappeared, to be told that he should disappear again or be disappeared) (I sounded quite fucking stern, I can tell you, it is amazing how fierce I can be when angry) (via text message) I have been doing my own wiring.

I place the loft ladder in position.

Climbing up the ladder, I stop halfway and push the over-heavy loft-hatch to one side. That way, I can descend the ladder and extend it fully in order to ascend back into the loft.

I climb the ladder step-by-step and pull myself up through the opening. The floor is boarded over for a few feet on either side – I stoop to walk across this before dropping to my knees to get under a rafter. Clambering across beams and careful not to fall through the ceiling into the Baby’s room below, I have to duck low to miss the large cross-beam that clearly supports something important. At the same time I am forced to shimmy over a huge rafter on the floor – all whilst clutching my knife and pliers.

I arrive at the wiring location.

There is a bellow from one story below.

“Jonn-eeeeeeeeeeeee?”

I sigh in a resigned fashion, like Mary, Queen of Scots. I pick up my knife and pliers and scuttle back across the rafters like Golem, if he had a popular and successful internet web log. I duck low to miss the large cross-beam and shimmy over the huge rafter. I then walk across the boarded area and drop down through the hatch. My feet hit the rungs of the metal ladder, and I climb down the steps, one by one.

I follow the source of the voice into the room that has the computer in it. The LTLP is on the internet banking thing. She asks me what a particular cheque was for. I suggest that the cheque book stubs might reveal all. They are located in the kitchen drawer. I am sent to get them.

I walk out of the door that has the computer in it, down the (completed) staircase to the drawer in the kitchen. I collect the cheque book stubs. I walk up the (completed) staircase and into the room with the computer in it, obediently presenting the cheque book stubs.

“Oh yes,” she says, examining the particular stub. “Thanks.”

I slip out of the room that has the computer in it, and back to the foot of the ladder. I take the rungs of the ladder one by one, and pull myself up through the loft hatch. Walking across the boarded bit, I duck to miss the large cross-beam and shimmy over the huge rafter. I then worm my way across the beams to my wiring location.

I begin my wiring.

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