Faced with the fear of Roscoe's parents arriving and our spare bedroom still being a building site, we finally knuckled down to the tiling/plastering. Three backbreaking days of tiling later, and I never have to lay another herringbone terracotta tile. This was the last room in the house to be tiled (I think there's a step somewhere that still needs done, but I'm trying not to think about it). They still need grouting in the gaps between the tiles, but they look quite nice anyhow.
This bedroom has a door onto the street and, to limit the dust in the house, I set up my workbench and tilecutter outside. By the third day, I was the attraction of the village, with several neighbours dropping by to judge my progress. They seemed bemused to see a girl tiling: "You're doing it? By yourself?". I think my reputation just got upped a level to "very eccentric foreigner". Nonetheless, the compliments and encouragement did keep me going through the long last day of tiling.
Now I must apply myself to transforming the antique bed into a comfy night's sleep. I'm certainly learning new skills!
