Listening to: Blind Dog at St Dunstans (Caravan - geddit! Well, you will soon)
Weather: Bloody glorious, midges even, then very rainy for a bit and then glorious again.
Cider is: best taken in moderation
No: piglets yet (Sunday is my guess)
So here I am with Westray's answer to the Chuckle Brothers. A beautiful day has just given way to a really sharp shower that is going on so long that the Shower Evaluation Unit are about to upgrade it to Raining.
We're trying to get the caravan level.
It's not that easy.
I'm really glad I'm not doing it on my own.
There's one hell of a lot of 'to me, to you' going on. Every so often one of them (not sure which is Paul and which is Barry) disappears and reappears with some magic piece of kit which is going to make sure my father-in-law Ray can get to sleep at night without the blood running to his head.
I'm standing here like a spare part, smiling, holding and fetching things.
So far we've managed to bend one of the four legs the caravan stands on. Even I know that's not good.
Not only that. but we're running out of concrete blocks to prop the whole thing up.
With the help of a damn clever little jack thingy and some more 'to me to you'ing the ultimate law that is the spirit level is obeyed and Chez Ray is ready to rock.
Only snag is, we've managed to lift the one side of the caravan so far that the concrete step I made on Monday (damn fine it is too) is now too low for a 79-year-old communist to clamber aboard unaided.