Up the spout

We have had a difficult conversation with the plumber.  His invoice was over twice his quote and despite constant requests for a financial status report, this bill is the first we heard of the overspend.  The project is hardly a Grand Design.  We bought a house with a cartshed that the previous owners had converted into B&B rooms.  Romantic French style with a swag of netting over the beds.  The B&B was a big success - we have the visitor book and visitors LOVED it.  Fresh flowers, home-made chocolate brownies, who wouldn't love it?  Two guests got engaged here, perhaps whilst reclining on the brownie crumbs under the bridal netting, but I hope at dawn on a beach with a luminous horizon.

The previous owner made enormous breakfasts.  I have seen pictures.  Bacon, sausages, eggs, pancakes, waffles, huge vats of fruit salad.  We have a neighbour who used to help with the clearing up. 'To much, too much.  Let's just say those pigs were very well fed.'  She was referring to the late livestock I believe, not the guests.  A pig is a great recycler.  The guests who'd hadn't cleared their plates had their left-overs donated to the trough.  Those who rebooked for the following year were effectively served the stuff they'd left last year, transformed into bacon.  A win double, as my brother-in-law says.  My other brother-in-law is a vegetarian.

We had a lot of debate about whether to continue the B&B or turn it into a self-catering place.  We never intended to buy a commercial property, just a home.  But a little business all ready to run...foolish not to.  The argument against is that my husband is sometimes away in London. Sometimes I am.  We have three small children, a school run for two of them and merry dance with the third.  I am not a morning person unless I am still up from the night before.  It boiled down to eggs.  I don't give a rat's arse how people want their eggs done.

The four bedrooms are now two apartments.  Which sounds too urban.  The builder calls them 'units' which sounds like an Australian town planning department.  They aren't exactly cottages but 'shed conversion' isn't right either.  Any ideas?  Anyway, they're not finished.  Stopping work feels like halting a radical haircut half way through because you realise you've forgotten your purse.  But we can't finish them yet.  One, however, is nearly ready.  We wanted to let the plumber know he needs to communicate more efficiently.  'I kept starting things out of sequence,' he said, 'and it just all sort of snowballed.'  We have agreed a schedule of payments to melt the snowball and he's going to finish the first place in time for its first guests - already booked for August.

The plumber's work is excellent.  He has always come to deal with our several emergencies, from the deluge through the ceiling to the freezing bath water.  He's a nice guy.  Also, this is a small community.  Everyone knows of everyone else.  We don't want to be 'The Bad Debtors'. And his wife is our dental nurse.  'We need to be diplomatic' I said, 'remember what happens in Marathon Man.'  He hasn't shafted us, he's just didn't tell us what was going on until too late.  Mr P handled it all very well.  I was impressed.  The plumber asked our kids to his son's birthday party.  We had a beer.  We put the oil of cloves back in the cupboard.

'In future', Mr P said, 'we need you to be more upfront earlier, so we can plan what to do.'

'Planning's always difficult,' said the plumber. 'Especially for the future.'