cynicismand I cannot apportion blame. I can hardly believe it myself. I don't know if you remember the ladder-in-the-garden story? WOYWW 138 and 139 will fill you in if you're interested. Let me summarise. The love of my life, Mr Dunnit, is pathologically untidy. He doesn't see it. It's not malicious and it's certainly not because he's lazy, nothing could be further from the truth. He just doesn't see it. And if something's just sitting there, apparently not in the way and doing or coming to no harm, it works for him. Which is why there's a horse behind my armchair.
I'm joining with Elizabeth for T stands for Tuesday to bring you this tale of domestic bliss. As long as it features your beverage of choice, it qualifies. Note the large out of focus mug of coffee. It's on a little 'shelf' that Mr D made for me so that I can write, type etc from my armchair..I'm aware of the implications toward idleness, I really am. So. This little horse is destined to be a rocking horse, but as you can see, it's a work in progress. It was living quietly in the garage, but we needed the garage space for storage of a large number of bespoke doors that we had slaved over to meet a deadline. Which the builder then extended by 2 months. Naturally, they have to be taken from the workshop to make room to work...26 of them, each weighing about oh, a tonne. Wrap in corrugated card and cling wrap, staple on temporary feet to protect the corners. Carry across workshop, lift into van, transport, lift out of van, carry through to garage. You get it. So the garage was emptied of the usual stuff. If indeed, a filing cabinet and a wooden horse are usual. The bikes and bins went into the garden, but of course the horse has to be at a reasonable and weather proof location. Behind my chair made sense. And now, it's almost invisible to us. And the doors? We delivered them early last week.