So let’s just recap where we are: the house remains in its full Halloween House of Horror glory, it is at least a year off being done, we have to save every single penny we can find from down the back of the sofa, and also even the ones I leave in pockets that block up the washing machine that make error E06 come that annoys Daragh so much. Our big priorities are a) borrow all the money from Mr Bank Manager man and b) do lots of hard grown up project managementy stuff, in particular hiring lots of construction professional people like architects which is fine because I understand what they do but also other ones like Quantity Surveyor ones and Engineer humans. This is minus craic. They do things I don’t even understand and that nobody will ever notice including me except perhaps in an electricity bill in twenty years time and sure I never look at those. (Hello triple ecowarrier no-disease causing insulation. How much? How annoying!). In short, none of these people are interested in talking to me about kitchen islands but will happily chew the cud on drainage (bit icky), sewage (pukes) and of course budgets (full on heaving). See, no craic.

She keeps asking me to build a wall out of mouses backs and elephants breath

 But this is where we are at: serious starting out stage, not glamorous but this build needs solid foundations, literally and metaphorically. So for now, we need focus, patience, a robust plan. What we probably don’t need is a ……………. rug.

Say what you see Claire

So yesterday, call it a whim, call it a bargain, call it clearly barking, while I pushed Essie through Urban Outfitters to escape the rain, before I knew what was happening, I was at the till paying for a brand new rug for her bedroom. Just to be clear, this is her bedroom in the new house, yep the derelict house that this blog is about that doesn’t exist and definitely wont exist while I am too busy farting around the shops to help make it exist. Another interesting recap might be to just mention that Essie is six months old and highly unlikely to have any interest or preference in soft furnishings for a considerable number of years. In my defence, I knew at the time it was a little bit bonkers and it was obviously a definite hide from Daragh purchase (hi Daragh, the rug is lovely and is hidden at the back of Alice’s wardrobe alongside some ambitious trousers from Zara) but to me, it was necessary.

Daragh made the foolish mistake of opening the spare wardrobe in Alice’s room

Couple of reasons. Firstly totally off topic but I’ve been having second child guilt. On mature recollection, I may have slightly lost the plot when Alice came along, and suffered a massive case of first time mother consumerism feverishly buying every. single. thing. she could have ever possibly wanted, needed or potentially needed even if it was only once for about five minutes. (Hello, rabopax baby rocker, how you doin’ stranger). It was quite serious. I mean there is a small chance I may have gone out and bought her a brand new top just for her passport photo. Please don’t judge me.

Alice could finally relax knowing that her passport would be unlikely to make a mockery of her at her next city break with the gals

With poor little Essie, we are far wiser and much broker so I’d say the most I’ve forked out on her is for a couple of new vests and they were defo Tesco as well. So in my defence, I have been feeling bad that she never gets anything new and is destined for a life of hand me downs. (I too was a second child to an older sister so this may perhaps have slightly deeper psychological roots).

Essie couldn’t understand why all her little friends wouldn’t play on her rug with her

On a shallower note, I also needed an enthusiasm injection: a jolt of something bright, shiny and exciting to remind me of what the house end result might hopefully be like and it had to be something that made sense in my material world. I’ll admit I have been finding it a little daunting thinking about the scale of what we have taken on and have been trying to ignoring the little butterflies in my belly fluttering around usually in bed at night when I think about everything we have to do. My antidote has been secret midnight visits to my old pal Pinterest where my sneaky loiters have actually been all centred on kids bedrooms and less of the kitchen islands much to my great surprise: White wood floorboards, patchwork wigwams, ceiling-dangling pom poms, basically lots of very pretty but ridiculous, semi-smug features that I have no doubt will never materialise in either of the girls’ actual rooms, but are all nonetheless preserved in my growing online lust log. Again I ask, please don’t judge me.

Claire realised she may have taken her interiors vision a little far with the live goose installation

I know this interiors porn is but a pipe dream but its enough to keep my skin in, what at the moment, is a very slow game.

So you see, it wasn’t really about the rug. (Well of course, it kind of was as it is, as you can see, a very nice rug and it was only 25 quid which is a total bargain) but it could have been anything.

Lovely ruggegly

Anything would have done to serve as a sparkly North Star to keep me on track, remind me of what we’re aiming for and throw a little light on the road ahead. Everyone needs a little carrot to keep them chasing their dreams. This was mine and just enough to keep me on the straight and narrow of this magic carpet ride.

Daragh and Claire had wanted to make a lasting impression when they went to see the Bank Manager and now they had just the thing

But that’s it now. Its September so back to school and back to reality, plus I’m sure once Mr Bank Manager man meets us, he will literally pull the rug out from under us for the foreseeable future so carrots, juicy bargains or not, will be off the menu. He, and we, mean business now. My next post will contain actual proper progressive, eh progress. That, my friends, is a promise.

That’s all for now folks