I have realised that I can't manage the labouring part of the job - mixing the mortar in the cement mixer - as I'm too short to get a shovelful in the machine without spilling half of it. Fortunately, the Sage doesn't mind. I've told the whole family that they are all welcome to lay some of the bricks too - and I mean it, you can too if you like. Liberty Hall and all that here, and you'll get lunch, although Dave has found it to be bread and cheese so far. We only work in the mornings so that we can return to Real Life after lunch.
BW suggested that the men are rather well-dressed for bricklaying. Dave's jeans do, indeed, look rather smart until you look closer -
If she'd seen my jeans, she'd have made no such suggestion
These were Weeza's, some 20 years ago. When she tired of them I adopted them until they went into holes and since then I've only used them (when they fit, hem hem) for painting and suchlike jobs.
The Sage wore what he usually wears. He would wear it for shovelling cement or for dining with the Queen. Smartness doesn't , therefore, come into it.
The results of today's endeavours. I had difficulty in getting far enough back to get it all in; the wall is not on the huh*, it's the camera.
*Norfolk for wonky
13 comments:
Dry bread, one must add.
Huh!? Are you sure that spirit level isn't propping it up?
Oh and the first sentence of this post should include the phrase 'along with his own man-sized trowel'.
Yes, it was bread from the day before. Stale dry bread.
Dave doesn't realise that I often have dry bread with a drizzle of Marmite, naked salad and plain yoghurt for lunch. I'm making more effort than it seems.
Dave, you certainly have a man-sized trowel. Indeed, your trowel is bigger than the Sage's trowel.
Rog, those tree trunks are propping it up.
Z, don't work him too hard, he's delicate you know
Actually some gentle work (bricks aren't that heavy) in the fresh air, and congenial company, is doing me good.
My back aches a bit though.
Oh, and today's bread was so old and dry it had green bits growing in it.
He's young and strong, Sarah (compared to me, at any rate). It'll do him good.
Congenial company, ooh, the Sage and I are complimented. Sorry about the bread, Dave - but it's got anti-bacterial properties, you know.
Nice drop of stretcher bond. But what's the wall for? Is it to espalier peaches against? To keep aliens out (or in)? For domestic performances of A Midsummer Night's Dream?
Hello, Christopher. Any and all of those things, but mainly for fun. It's a whimsical wall. That is, something was needed there but it could have been a fence. Building my own wall was just one of those excited suggestions that I make sometimes, and which occasionally the Sage follows up on.
Blogger ate my earlier comment...
Those jeans of Dave's would sell for hundreds in the right designer shop.
And how did the foundations/black brick bit get done? I missed a stage somewhere.
Hear that, Dave? Put 'em on eBay.
We had a couple of professional brickies come and lay the footings, I think that was probably the year before last. We thought it would be a good idea to start with a firm foundation!
All my clothing is designer wear, naturally.
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