Well, dear reader, it’s taken over 7 decades but I’m learning patience. At least I’m trying to. As Diana Ross would say You Can’t Hurry, Love

When we last blogged, a month ago, we reported the slab set out had started. And indeed it had. For Cherrie’s garden shed

And, we also reported that the piers would be dug the following week. And so they were. No peer pressure here

Two days later this cunning truck appears

And with the boom, the piers are poured

Then, guess what? There’s a bit of a hiatus. Enough to give you a hernia really.

Eventually the team return, and give us what appears to be an archaeological site

Without treasure. Undaunted, the plumber lays the organ pipes

Then, guess what? There’s another hiatus. Even though to the north the hills are alive

And that evokes another Plummer

Idle Site, Idle Site This is how you greet me, rough old ground, nothing bright, You’re not even happy to meet me

But then there’s some good news. On Friday Tim reports that the formwork will be constructed next week and the slab poured the following Friday

Ode to Joy, Joyful, joyful, we adore thee

Over the weekend, Cherrie keeps her eye on the weather forecast As she so often doe4s. It’s not looking good but I’m the optimist. I assure her it will be fine. In every sense of the work. On Monday the builders work under cloudy skies and lay the blue metal over the dig

On Monday night Cherrie checks the weather. Again. And again.

On Tuesday the builders are washed out and leave the site

By Wednesday it’s dire

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

The rain set in for four days. 240mls (9 1/2″). Be grateful for small mercies, Christine. Woodhill copped 444.5mls (17 1/2″).

When it stopped, there was just the Sounds of Silence and at the site you could Cry Me A River

It still hasn’t dried out enough for the formwork. There goes the River of Dreams

In a sign of positivity the reinforcing mesh was delivered on Monday. But no one was on site to take delivery. Oh, how I love a bit of double handling

Every week we lose is another week of (high) rent. But at least we have a nice view from our home office, with some of the hundreds (literally) of pots Cherrie bought from Quamby in the foreground

And Bolly looks after us by insisting that we walk her at the beach every day. Except when it’s raining! Life could we crook, eh?

Maybe next blog we can sing Happy Days are Here Again or will they just be Memories?