Unprofessional
Right then. Before I get on to anything else this week, I need to have a proper moan about the plasterer, because if I don't get it out of my system in the first paragraph I'll only be muttering about it under my breath for the rest of the post, and none of us want that. This will be the third time now. Third. Since May. Every few weeks a text arrives, always terribly not apologetic, always promising the ceiling will finally get sorted "very soon," and every few weeks that soon slides a bit further down the calendar. The latest one landed this week, and I'll be honest, I read it twice because I thought I must have misunderstood it. October. We are now looking at October, for a job that was meant to take a couple of days back in spring. At this rate the ceiling will still be waiting for its plaster by the time the grandchildren are old enough to have a go at it themselves, and given how patient I'm not naturally, that's saying something. Sara's take...
