Oh yes in deed! We have progressed beyond wood chip wallpaper. While I have moved on to setting off the smoke alarm every fifteen minutes while I remove elderly gloss paint from the skirting boards with a hot gun he who is occasionally obeyed decided the time was right – which it was- to remove a portion of plaster in the main bedroom that felt as though it had blown.
As it turned out the plaster hadn’t blown it was merely that it was so old that gravity was finally doing its work. “Come and look at this,”
I squinted, did a double take and asked my brain to catch up with what I was staring at and by now what I was beginning to smell- autumn. “It’s not build up from the gutters, is it?”
“No – they’re not blocked and this stuff is all dry.” H.W.I.O.O. prodded at the blackened mass. A leaf drifted down to join the bonfire sized pile that had already settled on the floorboards beneath the ladder.
“Is that moss? Perhaps its a bird’s nest?” And I could see a chink of grey December morning through the gap.
‘Not unless its a giant roc or an army of wrens.”
By this time the smell of autumn was becoming more pungent. The vegetable matter also seemed to be expanding. Or put another way the pile was now up to my knees.
“Well what’s it all doing in there then?”
“Insulation I expect.”
“Other people find priceless works of art,” I was heard to mutter grumpily as I reached for the heavy duty rubble sacks and a face mask.
“It could be modern art.”
“Well – you’ve had an emotional response to it haven’t you?”