There's a charming tradition that, whenever someone gets a skip, word goes out about its existence on some kind of subconscious level and everyone in the area comes along to dump rubbish, old mattresses, pianos, cars and deceased family members in it because they can't be arsed to get rid of it themselves. I remember the house across the road from us was being renovated a few years ago and they had a pretty big skip, and one night I heard a car pull up and something clattering outside. I peeked through the curtains and saw a chap with an estate car full of broken-up kitchen units, dumping them into the skip. This was around midnight, and this chap had driven specially from wherever he lived in order to quietly dump his rubbish in someone else's skip.
Something similar happened when we were having the attic converted; we attracted a mattress and what looked like the remains of a child's bed. So when we got one for the present work, I was fully expecting to see alien rubble.
But yesterday morning I was sorting out Kuron's medication and I heard some banging and crashing outside. I looked out of the window, and saw a big blue van pulled up beside our skip and three blokes removing our old cooker from it and chucking it into the van. Presumably they were scavenging for scrap, but that was a first for me - someone taking something out of a skip.
Workwise, we now have a new ceiling, the kitchen has been rewired and lights installed. The Boys seem to have fixed the wobbly shower tray somehow. They've fixed the ties to attach the wall between the kitchen and the bathroom to the outside wall, and in doing so have managed to crack quite a lot of plaster off the bathroom side of the wall, but that's relatively simple to repair.
I'm presuming they're going to plaster the kitchen either tomorrow or Friday and let it go off over the weekend, then replumb us, put the new floor down, and then install the new units and worktops.
As of this evening, we seem still to be on track.
However. If I don't get a proper meal - cooked by myself and involving potatoes, maybe a steak or a pork chop, salad and some Oxo gravy - very soon, I may go quietly out of my tiny mind. Apart from one blissful takeaway pizza we've been eating those microwave meals, which look in the adverts as if they could feed a football team but which in reality are no larger than a pot of yoghurt.