29th September 2013 

Another dawn alarm, this time to get ahead of the forecast rain, which of course arrived on schedule at 11 am, just as we were both balanced on the roof. I was laying laths on the side section while David was grinding tiles along the apex. A brisk shower left us both dripping like wrung-out dishcloths, but within minutes the sun returned and baked us dry again. That was the last of the rain for the day, thankfully.

We’re down to the final stretch now: nothing major left, just lots of fiddly jobs. We worked largely in silence, accompanied only by the endless loop of Tubular Bells and Moody Blues piping from the hi-fi we’d set up outside. Nothing like prog rock to soundtrack the slow march to roofing glory.

The day’s real amusement came courtesy of David’s “incidents”. First, he vanished halfway into the loft through the fresh material I’d just laid, then later he barrelled straight into a pile of old rafters we’d chucked down earlier, while inspecting some of my joinery. Both collisions were decidedly leg-first, undoubtedly hurt, David kept stoically quiet, so I returned the courtesy by politely pretending I hadn’t noticed.

Lunch was a low-key affair: leftover pasta for David, cheese sandwiches for me. I scribbled up yesterday’s blog while he dozed on the sofa and Banjo snored away on my bed, paws twitching like he was chasing phantom sossals. I joined them for a nap and woke first at 4:30 pm, revived us all with coffee, and then it was back up the ladder.

By then, David had been grinding tiles so long he emerged looking like an escapee from a fake tan parlour, his entire face and clothes coated in a vivid layer of red dust. The whole roof was soon the same shade, turning every step into a careful shuffle to avoid sliding off in a slapstick avalanche.

We finally downed tools at dusk, with just three roof connections and a bit of snagging left to tackle. After a much-needed scrub, it was off to our “usual” Dryanovo bar. The waiter, now clearly recognising us as fixtures, stopped for a chat and revealed he’d spent six years working in Spain, which perhaps explained his sudden burst of confidence with us.

Back in Ritya, we collapsed straight into bed, another day of roof-wrangling chalked up.