There's a hole in my wall!

A bit of a bang and a crash. Normal now. Roofers here. Loud voices. A thud.



Over we go, me and Lester.




There was a wall, but then somehow something got knocked against it, probably a beam coming down, and now we have a hole in the wall. But it is no ordinary hole: it has shelves!



And a sink. With an outlet into the old stable beside it.

To us it is a real find, giving us an element of the history of the house, much of which we have lost.

And the hole is in the wall of what will be the lounge, the most unphotographed bit of Labartere because it has been dark, damp and 'orrible, being the only part to retain its ceiling: when the rain falls it comes in and stays in whereas all the rest of the house gets wet but dries out. But now the ceiling has been magicked away by the trio of roofers, and she can now dry out.

And the curious thing is, that after all the pulling about the house is enduring, it has the most peaceful of atmospheres in it nevertheless.

She is a stirling trooper. She still stands proud. And she still has little secrets she is letting us share. Now all we have to do is tidy up the hole, - somehow!