Attic monkeys

…or “I bet that you look good on the loft boards”.

Our loft is the filthiest place I have ever had the misfortune to spend a weekend. Filthier than a Thai ladyboy ping-pong tournament. Filthier than Sid James’ laugh. Filthy.

Those that know me will know I’ve never been one for hard work, getting grubby or carrying out macho tasks. That’s not to say I’m lazy, I can graft when required, I’d just rather being doing something else. Sitting, for instance.

So, on hands and knees in a dimly lit attic, cutting, drilling and boarding the loft while being brushed delicately with thick, black cobwebs* – not gonna make it onto my top ten best things ever! list.

That being said, I’ve boarded over half the available space, and have only the tricky edges and neatening up to do now. Insulation board will help box and tidy the edges of the space, and I can now fit Henry up there to vacuum with his cheery, snorty nose.

A nourishing breakfast (something warm as it’s really cold today) and I’ll venture back up. Wish me luck, and I may return with pictures…

*A lot like being kissed by the thin, dessicated lips of a Mummy. I imagine.**

** Not that I imagine that kind of thing, it’s creepy and weird.***

*** If however, Mummies are your thing, I meant no offence.

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