That was the week that was

The auricula theatre, moved from Coven Sud, looks better than ever, despite being on a north-facing wall now, when it was on an east facing wall before, even if some of the pots are a little on the large size:

Mr BW worked very hard over the Easter weekend, completing all the jobs that needed to be done to get everything ready for the carpet fitters on Tuesday. When we booked them I allowed an extra few days, because I am now an expert on Project Creep caused by the vagaries of workmen.

It was all done in the nick of time, with the aid of a few Bunny Chomp Chomps (Malteasters) and Bunny Bang Bangs (the Gigantic Bunny is now residing with The Deceased Pope). Actually, probably not, as that bastard thing that ruined so many trees, and was over twice the size of The Black Familiar, and nearly as big as a small child, must surely be in Bunny Hell now.

The carpet was fitted, and part way through (just below) I had a horrible feeling that I’d messed up on colour choice and picked Old Peoples’ Brown. The take-home samples were out with someone else, so I had to make a choice in the shop (or, more accuratly, in the shop car park, where there was natural light) by comparing swatches of the existing colour and what I needed it to match to.

Fortunately, once fitted and flat, with the light falling on it, it was a neutral colour, of various fawns and creams, and exactly matches the exterior paving, as I intentended. And hopefully won’t show the muck. Not very sensible to have carpet in a conservatory, but there was carpet before and tiles would be just too cold for most of the year, and this is commercial quality looped berber, allegedly cleanable with bleach.
Mr BW also nearly managed to get my objets and pots back as I would have arranged them:

When we went to the viewing day of a farm dispersal sale yesterday he spotted something he’d been wanting for a long time:

So, having researched its worth, I decided what I’d pay (which was double what he said he’d pay), and eventually got it today for £10 more than his top price. I also successfully bid for lots of other metal objets, some for his sculptures, and some for my garden collections.

While viewing yesterday we were chatting to the farmer selling up and retiring. I love farm sales, but I am always sad for the outgoing incumbent. A lifetime of useful things and tools of the trade reduced to a few lines of numbered lots in a barn:

and the larger items and machines outside:


The retiring farmer asked Mr BW what had caught his eye, and when Mr BW told him, and said that he wanted to use it for its proper purpose, rather than a decorative piece, he seemed pleased.
All the locals who work the land were there, nothing like a farm sale to bring them together, most of them built like the proverbial ‘brick shit houses’ and in clothes, and with dogs, that haven’t seen a wash this year:

All’s well that ends well: