Hi this is Lucy Axam reporting from the basement of her house, more precisely, behind the safety of about 30 cubic meters of boxes and furniture which have been stored here as an emergecy measure.
Why so glam you ask? Well a lot more has happened in the last 48 hours other than the Eurozone going into meltdown...!
Having returned to the building site on Thursday evening to make a second round of coffee and biscuits for the workers I found that one of the builders had clearly grown very fond of me and so absolutely HAD to take a talisman as a memory of me off the building site with him when he left that evening... and decided the only thing he could tangibly get hold of other than a lock of my hair was in fact this brand new brushed metal Kenwood Kettle. And so bless his low cut trousers he took it with him when he left. How could I hold that against anyone!?
Deluded moi? I kick myself over and over when I think back to the internal dispute I had with myself in the kettle aisle of the supermarket - ‘do I get a cheap plastic one in case they steal it, or do I get a nice one I will keep for ever and trust in the goodness of human nature that no one will...’ ‘I know - I’ll do the latter because I believe in Fairies and Neverland and... POP there goes my bubble!
So that horrible feeling settled in - the one when you can’t look your workers in the eye cos one of them is smugly thinking back to the cup of tea they made this morning from your kettle - or thinking about the 80.- they made from selling it on Tutti - that they spent betting on the dogs. I hope they lost - and that the dog they bet on broke free and it now living the life of Larry on a farm.
Friday the sun rose - a new dawn a new day and i was headed for a life in Suburbia! dressed up and ready to do the etat des lieux and collect the keys to our house at 4pm. However when we got to ‘our new home’ it seemed like perhaps our house was actually being used in the making of a film all about building a house... and it was only a quarter of ther way through..
There were pots of paint everywhere, muddy floors, electricians looking like they had been frazzled a couple of times over, sprinting around in chaos.
When the dust settled our project manager materialised - looking rather like father christmas sporting a mullet and a beatified expression as if he had just had a glass of sherry and was about to be offered a piece of pie. He extended his palm and asked for the remaining money we owed for the building of our house. We asked him if he was joking. He said he wasn’t. We said we couldn’t move in in a house that looked like this, ‘he said it was all relative but we didn’t have to if we didn’t feel ready to.’
So to cut a long story short, and to spare you details of quite how easy it is to access one’s long repressed inner child when it comes to throwing a tantrum through hiccups and tears we didn’t pay and we didn’t get the keys to the house.
We did have a pronblem though. Because our removal men were doing the furniture delivery at 8am the next morning...
Casting my mind back to my kettle I then multiplied the issue of having all my wordly goods in my house with all the workers - one of which had a penchant for OPP (other people’s property)...
Saturday morning came around and all our furniture was driven to the house and directed down to the basement. A 4m x 5m room.
Monday filming... (I mean finishing) resumed on set... (I mean at the house) and I took myself down to the basement as the electrician needed to access i to steal stuff (I mean to fix some wiring). Trying not to act too distrusting I set myself up on a stool and a bedside table in the midst of a citsscape of boxes... trying not to scare too many builders with ‘who goes there fee fi fo fum’ attitude as I popped out from behind a case of wine to startle them and remind them that ‘they were not alone’.
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