For Crying Out Loud...

     Today started well - up and out early, to Clayton-le-Moors to pick up eBay item, which you should see soon, it's a cracker. Then to Accrington for some shopping, Oswaldtwistle for the charity shops, and home. Straight back out again to pick up a parcel from the Royal Mail that wouldn't fit through the letterbox, which was an unexpected delay. Then, screwing my courage to the sticking place, it's upstairs to face the flooring. I walked into the room and immediately, there's something wrong. As I walked in, the flooring flexed beneath my feet. Oh no. Onto my hands and knees, feeling around. There's a problem right in the middle of the room. Common sense says that there is something under the flooring. Right in the middle of the room. Under the flooring. Words starting with 'F' and 'B' shoot across my mind. But there is no way around it - the flooring will have to come up.

And here, boys and girls, is the offending article, shown with a ruler for size comparison.

That little blighter has cost me a day. Heaven knows how it slipped through - I swept the floor with a long, soft brush AND a dustpan and brush as I went. But, like the Princess and the Pea, I could feel it was there, and I knew it would keep me awake. So up came the boards, out came that little rascal, and down went the boards again. God, I hate flooring.

I write this, with burning knees and ankles, and throbbing back. I thought this was all going to be behind me. This needs a desperate remedy. Thus, tonight, I will be mostly drinking Crabbies Ginger Beer and Theakston's Old Peculier, I will be mostly eating Croque-monsieur and I will be mostly watching Amelie on DVD. Ah, Audrey Tautou ...