Why, oh why, did we decide to remodel upstairs? Why, oh why, did we decide to do it over the Christmas holidays? Why, oh why, did I believe Tony when he said it would only take about a week?

Three weeks into the project, and we’re only just beginning to see some progress. I had hoped, planned, for it to be finished at the beginning of this week, so that we would have a bit of time to relax before getting back to work. Ha. 

For one thing, the dividing wall between the two rooms, which we thought was plasterboard, turned out to be lath and plaster, so it was a much bigger and messier job taking it down. Then, instead of buying wardrobes, we decided to have a walk in wardrobe running the full length of the room, and that’s taken the best part of a week to build and fit. Tony’s only just finished that today. The ceiling had to be re-skimmed, because the ceiling in each room was different, so that’s slowed us down as well. Today Tony will start wallpapering, tomorrow will be painting and finishing off, and Sunday I hope the carpet will go down.

(this was a tiny bedroom, which we used as the Posh Yarn stock room)

Unfortunately, that means that we’ve run out of time to do the PY stock room and office before we have to go back to work. So we’re going to have to juggle doing that while working over the next couple of weeks.

(this was the other tiny room upstairs, a box room, not big enough to use for anything really)

Thankfully, we had the help of some very generous friends, who sacrificed their xmas hols as well to help us out. Without them, we would be even further behind than we are now.

(The left side of the room once the dividing wall was demolished. The eagle eyed among you may spot Tony’s Fair Isle sweater, over which I slaved for months, in a pile of rubble on the floor. Grrr.)

I hope that next week I will have some finished – or at least, mostly finished – shots for you!

3 thoughts on “DIY SOS

  1. Well that’s the reason why not to make your man a hand-knitted jumper. My dear husband creosoted the fence in his, insisted he was going to bung it in the machine and promptly killed it.

    Pah. Men.