28th September 2013

With rain threatening in a couple of days, we were up at the crack of dawn and stayed on the roof until the light got so poor that hammering nails became a sort of blindfold darts. Yesterday’s heat had nearly roasted us alive, so David kindly lent me a more ventilated hat. Mine, alas, had met a mysterious fate overnight. What began as a serviceable sun-shield had developed a sizeable hole in the crown. Banjo was the immediate suspect, until closer inspection revealed no slobber, just tidy little bite marks. The real culprits? The sossals, returning for another round of nocturnal mischief.

In the afternoon, David drove to Dryanovo for more ridge tiles and sundry supplies, leaving me to take Banjo on a forest ramble. Within minutes, I’d gathered half a bucket of walnuts and perched on a wall to crack a few open. Ban

jo, for all his intelligence, has yet to master the fine art of walnut-hunting. He ambles past the best ones, only becoming interested once I’ve cracked one for him. He happily crunches the tiny ones, though, his version of a canine appetiser.

Once David returned, it was straight back up the ladder. By day’s end, we’d nearly conquered the back roof (a mere three tiles shy, awkwardly stranded in a far corner), and three-quarters of the front was covered too, complete with material and tiles. The ridge tiles and fascia still loomed, but we swore an early start would see us through, at least until rain or darkness called time.

Dinner was a hearty pasta bake with spicy sausage, washed down with a smugly deserved beer. We rounded off the evening with Rock Star and finally staggered to bed at an hour that was, frankly, optimistic given the dawn start.