... but so much work still to do. It's taken me a while to sort out the PC (I left the main power cable behind!) and we have no central heating, and the roof leaks in the tiny back bedroom I was going to use as a study, so my PC is balanced on a small folding table. I have very little furniture, because the last place I owned was too tiny to fit any in - 18th century weavers' cottage, mine was the only single one not extended - 18th century people must have been weentsy, and equally they would have had no furniture. Older people in the village remembered when the beaten earth floor in my house was concreted over (1930s), and when the well in the path that ran past the cottages was paved over (1950s).
This one is much newer, 1950s, and obviously had a bit of a makeover in the 70s, but nothing's been done since. Now I've put down dog-proof flooring downstairs, carpeted upstairs and I'm about to have the place rewired. Everything's been work, from the leaking and corroded connection to the washing machine... I could go on.
Herbie's accepted that this is his new home, and likes the little lane that leads downhill to a succession of wet fields. However his teeth have become noticeably worse, and I have a dilemma. It may be too dangerous to give him anaesthetic, and certainly my old vet was reluctant to risk it, but equally Herbie's teeth are getting browner and browner, and he has very limited tolerance for toothbrushing. I'm going to have to get to know our new vets down the road.