30th September 2013 

Another early start under a sky that threatened rain but instead served up yet another blistering scorcher. This was supposed to be the grand finale of our tiling saga, but the day quickly veered off course, thanks to the heat, fatigue, and some questionable past decisions coming back to haunt us.

David kicked things off, cutting and grinding tiles for the peaks of the small roof. Through the billowing orange dust clouds (and his steadily more Tangoed appearance), I could see he was battling both the tiles and his own patience. The trouble is, this small roof connects awkwardly with the main house roof, which uses a completely different tile style. In a fit of misplaced optimism weeks ago, we’d decided not to replace the two connecting rafters, thinking it would simplify matters. It didn’t. Proper squared and levelled rafters would have saved us hours. Worse still, we hadn’t squared off that entire side of t

he roof, choosing instead to follow the wall line, utterly unforgivable given how precise we’d been everywhere else. Add to that the small issue of never having capped tiles before, and you can imagine the comedy unfolding.

With David half-buried in red dust at one end, I wisely retreated to the quieter, cleaner end to finish the less hazardous jobs. Lunch was the usual spicy sausage and cheese sandwich (a culinary theme is developing), and then it was back to it. By mid-afternoon, I’d run out of safe tasks and reluctantly joined David in the red storm at the apex. Unsurprisingly, nothing looked straight. After some deep sighing and “constructive discussion”, we decided to reinforce the beams with two new rafters. Naturally, we immediately ran out of six-inch nails, sacrificed our last spare rafter, and accepted that David would have to re-grind his tiles. He bore it with admirable restraint, resisting the temptation to fling himself from the roof.

With the new plan in action, I cut and nailed while David ground and laid the tiles again. This time, miraculously, things looked (mostly) straight, with only a few modest wobbles for character. David began capping while I replaced the cracked casualties from our heavy-footed stomping. Once again, the sun dipped below the horizon before we could finish, leaving a few caps still missing.

After scrubbing off the day’s thick orange coating, we discovered our favourite bar in Dryanovo was closed, so we diverted to Casa Volley instead. The food was decent enough, and for a short while, we almost forgot about the unfinished roof. As we left, a fine drizzle began; tomorrow would reveal whether those missing caps were merely cosmetic or the start of another leaky fiasco.

Back in Ritya, we managed half a film before surrendering to sleep. Another day, another roof drama.