Sarking

The damp patch has re-appeared; most distressing after all the work. The roofers are summoned for the morn but I manage a crawl into the attic so far that my head is brushing the nails through the sarking. Nothing visible at all. And it’s been dry!
Later out to Shandon to pick up some family history stuff from Mum and find a wonderful tribute album made by the kids at Riccarton Primary when she retired. Worrying how many of them recalled incidents where she pulled out a fake revolver and threatened to shoot one of the children. Those were the days. Well before Dunblane, needless to say.
Then to the bike shop, a visit to maw and finally the dental hygienist. That must be the most awful job. Same routine with every client, day after day. Like reading blips. I suppose she gets well paid.