Carole’s been up a ladder. I have not been up a ladder.
Carole will not stop mentioning how up a ladder she has been. She has used it as an excuse to gobble Freddos like they’re loo rolls in a panic-buyer’s eyeline.
We’ve basically used the fact that we are both at home for extended periods of time to stick down the edges of wallpaper that we put up before and most definitely during us discovering that we should never have wallpapered the hallway because it was awful. Whether the edges lifting came from poor wallpapermanship or the lovely hot steaminess of the shower drifting into the hallway it’s hard to say.
Whatever the cause, the poor seams showed and have required death-defying ladder use to correct, so could only be done when the two of us were here at the same time. Which has not been for ages.
But we’ve done it.
I mean, I say we. I mean Carole. She was up the ladder. She might have mentioned it. If she hasn’t, I’m sure she will. Keep an eye on your phones. You’ll probably get a message about it.
The ladder, incidentally, being a folding one which folds into numerous different ladder configurations like a really useful Transformer. Almost all of those configurations were either a bit too long or a bit too short for our hallway.
But still, Carole soldiered on. Up that ladder.
Like a fucking hero.
Her words, not mine.
I expect someone will be in touch with her about the film adaptation…