The Chimney Liner

Chaos here.

The front room is covered in sheets and blue tarpaulin, with parts of a wood burning stove on the floor.
Our friend Mike is at the top of the chimney clinging onto a ladder, trying to drop a chimney liner down, while Himself is at the bottom, inside, trying to pull the thing down. It's hard work and dust and rubble is tumbling down the chimney. The worry is whether the very old chimney will be clear enough for the liner to go down. I can only hope so.

Gale force winds are forecast for this afternoon – and rain – and Mike is a tiny fellow. I’m hoping he won’t get blown away. In fact, I’m trying not to think about what they’re doing at all.

When I went into the kitchen earlier the two men were having a Conflab about whether to risk the weather - the forecast for the rest of the week is lousy. Mollie was looking at her most cute, sitting on Mike’s lap. The Helper, evidently.

Me? I’m trying to type up an interview I did last night with a café owner, amidst cries of “Pop! Can you help?”

I rush outside to grab a cable dangling down the wall, feed it through the catflap and plug it on so they have power up there.

Moll rushes up and down the corridor with me, looking very Anxious.

I go back to the computer, type up some interview. Next door, something rushes down the chimney. I only hope it’s not Mike.

“Pop!” From next door. Back I go. At least I can hear two voices so no one has fallen off the roof. Yet.

I have a feeling this is going to be a Long Day. And as for me trying to get any work done? Tricky.