Saturday, 20 October 2007

Meeting with the Architect Report... and poor soggy plushies.

Current mood:  sad

So we went to see the architect at 6.30pm last night as planned.
Things didn't turn out quite so badly as I had feared.  But that's simply because Mum didn't understand ANY of the drawn plans, so we have to wait until TUESDAY when the architect will send us our own clearer copies.  From what I understood of the plans though, I could see nohing that my mother will agree to.
Even though Mum understood none of the drawings, she sat nodding vigorously, grinning from ear to ear, going "Hmm!" in a positive way, and sucking on her reading glasses, which she can no longer see through.  She was "too embarrassed to admit she didn't understand anything."  Er...so you'd rather say you understood the plans, but you're mentally insane anyway, and keep changing your mind on them, meaning that one week you adore them, and keep complimenting them, the next week you won't accept them, or even look at them.  Sounds good...I don't think.
Chris didn't seem so unwilling to discuss what we wanted this time, and there was no sign of "Fuzzyhair" anyway.  He showed us around his own house(s - he bought two next door to each other and knocked them into one), including his loft extensions, which he says are a similar size to the one David wants for himself.  They were HUGE!!!  Two VERY big bedrooms, plus an en suite bathroom.  Huh!  He knows what he's doing, knocking two feet out of my bedroom and keeping all of that space to himself!!!  
Nothing else was really said.  David moaned at my mum all the way home because she so stupidly didn't understand the plans, and it really upset her.
Today, however, David has admitted he didn't understand the plans either, and whenever I try to tell the pair of them about the ideas, they say I can't have understood them better than they did, hence, we have to wait until Tuesday to even find out about Mum's reaction.  The only thing that she does understand is about the loft, both size and cost.  It's going to cost SIX THOUSAND QUID more than she'd expected, but David is playing it down, and saying that was the price all along.  We're not that daft.  And six thousand quid is an awful lot just to have spent on you.
So today Mum suggested that maybe we could have a change of plan over bedrooms.  I could have one of the loft rooms (which are bigger than my future room), and David could have the room he wants to take two feet off of for the bathroom.
"Right, you do that." David growled.  "But if you do, I'M GOING TO LIVE SOMWHERE ELSE!!!"
A real threat, David.  We don't even want you.  Well, we do, but only because we can't afford to pay the bills.without you.  Honestly though, the house was left to my MUM, not you. So, having made me wait seventeen and a half years for a room, I shouldn't even have a say in the matter of where that room is, because DAVID gets first choice in MUM'S HOUSE!!!
"Well, where am I meant to go if she has the loft?" he asked.  "Well, you can have the room on the first floor since I won't be sleeping in it."  I replied. "What, with two feet cut off of it?!"  Um...well, that's what you wanted to do to me, David...
Now for the next bit of bad news.  Until we move, all of my plush ponies are on the windowsill by the "communal bed", getting dirtier and dirtier, because their plastic crates are packed with my grandad's old sheet music.  You can see some of them in the background of my profile picture.  And then today, I pulled the curtains back, and found that the bottoms of the curtains were WET!  Running my hand along the glass, I found the whole length of the window was wet...  It was condensation because it was so cold outside last night.   Because my father is so odd, I always keep my three precious videos I've gathered of interviews with/shows starring my faourite actors and actresses by my side, even when I'm in bed.   They were also soaked.  I'm dreading trying to watch them again, as I fear they'll be ruined.
Worst of all though is the fact that the back row of my cuddly ponies were SOAKED THROUGH.  All of their legs are really wet and horrible, and really filthy from the windowsill that hasn't been cleaned in years.  It's really breaking my heart to see them like that, and I don't know if they'll ever clean up.   Anyhow, my parents have finally agreed to take me to the shop to get new crates.  Yeah, finally...now it's too late.  *Sob*
Yours sadly,
Desiree Skylark  xxx

No comments:

Post a Comment