218. The little house near the woods

Can one be admirative of one’s staircase? And if so, is it healthy?

I am just so very happy of the final result that I am constantly lingering on the steps. Either standing at the bottom and looking up at the wonderful contrast between the dark wood and the white (chalk) paint or sitting down on the plush carpet of the landing or again going up and down, down and up, turning the lights on, turning the lights off, then back on again ... I must be going mad. 

‘Nice job. Well done!’ Even my husband is properly impressed.

I make a short video - while going backwards and down - which proves very tricky and not safe at all but I manage not to fall. Next I take pictures and am shooting like mad from every possible angle. The Great Summer Project has been completed and awarded the price of best project of the summer.

Miss Organiser likes the stairs too.

‘I love the stairs Mum! I love the carpet too ... even though ...’

She starts jumping up and down, looks at me with a mischievous look on her face and says:

‘Even though it is a pity that it doesn’t bang so loud now when I stamp my feet!’

‘Well, you’re too old for tantrums anyway.’

And off she goes and stamps her way down the steps.

‘Hey! Watch my paint!’

This is going to drive me insane. I was obsessive enough as I was going through the process - which was fine - but as I am thinking the landing could be my new reading spot I get the feeling that this is getting too far. 

Beep beep beep ... My phone goes. I decide that 19 pictures of the stairs is probably enough and I take the call: Party-Head from the ramshackle cottage in the woods.

‘Hi! How’s the holiday going?’ Here I sound over-enthusiastic. It helps me to not go on about the stairs.

‘Great! My friends love it down here! We’re having a really good time!’

‘Oh good! Is the house ok? Any beasties running around in the attic? Garden not too much like a jungle? Do you have water? Hot water?’

I am glad Party-Head and her friends are down there. This house has not been opened up for over two years ... and it is stuck at the bottom of a tiny village so close to the woods ... I have visions of Hallowe’en spider webs everywhere - real ones - of hornets nests under the eaves, of bats in the barn, of brambles and nettles blocking the front door ... 

‘Mum! Stop it, will you! It’s all fine! All good and yes we have water and electricity and food and booze in the fridge. OK? All is good. Stop fretting.’

I get this more often these days, this reversal of the situation, the kids telling to stop this and stop that, reassuring me. What on earth is happening? And did she say they had booze in the fridge?

‘Mum? Are you listening?’

That feeling again.

‘Mum, do we have a hoover down here? Where is it? I can’t find it?’

A hoover? Party-Head and her friends are looking for the hoover? 

‘Mum? The hoover? Where is it?’

She sounds a little impatient with me so I do my best to try and remember where I put the hoover away two years ago ... Meanwhile she tells me about their holiday, about the BBQs and the cards games in the evening and as she goes on about it all I realise she has nothing horrible to report. No burst pipes, no blocked toilets, no martens in the attic, no hornets in the chimney, no collapsed ceiling, no flooded cellar ... It sounds like they’re having a good time.

‘When are you leaving?’

‘Sunday morning.’

‘When you leave, no need to turn the water off, and leave the electricity on. I’ll be leaving on Sunday morning to spend some time there too!’