The House of Meringue

Given the cloakroom ceiling, the one with 'lift-out' joints, was otherwise held up by nothing more structural than hope and happy thoughts, I added some meringue when plugging the old soil pipe hole.

OK, so it's not actually meringue but squirt'y filler foam that gunks up everything: fingers (in disposable gloves, before anyone comments), tools, clothes, carpet, the bin liner, even, with some persuasion, the bit of plasterboard filling the hole.  

I hate the stuff, but sometimes it's just the right beast for the battle.

--
Would have loved to be able to offer a prettier picture, but neither opportunity nor inclination presented themselves today.