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Peter is fixing the downstairs cloakroom. Bo and a mate are painting the outside of the house.

 I go into the spare bedroom to shave and Bo's at the window with a paintbrush pretending he hasn't seen me. I grab the hand mirror off the table and retreat elsewhere.

Bo and his mate chat in their own language. Just as well I'm not paranoid. Every so often one of them will sing a line or two of a Thai pop song. 

I've always liked what Jerome K Jerome had to say about loving work- how he could watch it all day long- but it doesn't apply to me. I wish it did. I wish I could be so insouciant.  I don't subscribe to the Protestant Work Ethic but and having people round me who presumably do makes me edgy. I feel like I need to be seen to be doing things. 

Bo has two ladders leaning against the eaves- and is halfway up them with one foot on each. "That is extremely dangerous," says Peter. 

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