DIY? Yes, I know I'm not to be trusted.

We've decided that since I've far too much spare time on my hands I should attempt to fix the boat.

So, I made a list of all the jobs that need to be done. It went something like this:

FIX THE DAMN BOAT.

No, it isn't actually a list I know, but if I actually wrote one then I'd reach old age by the time it was finished and I really wouldn't be up for much DIY. And the boat would've sunk. So I thought I'd keep it simple.

So, job #1. Fix the lights.

This was a pesky one. You know there's that job you've been meaning to tackle for the last few years but have been putting it off because the last time you tried to fix it you just made it worse? Well, okay, you might have done it properly the first time round but read my bio, it says I'm rubbish at DIY. Anyway...

It really was a simple job: a 2 minute attach-a-wire type affair, only to get to the wire I had to take the ceiling down first. Not so difficult really, I know, but you have to factor in that to get the ceiling down I had to chip away at polyfilla-ed screws. 25 of them to be exact and that can make you lose the will to live.

The last time I did this job it went swimmingly right up until I put everything back together and the wire for the light fitting fell out. So I left it dangling for a year and a half whilst I cursed at it and gave it the Evil Eye. It turned out that this didn’t help fix it at all, which is why, on Tuesday I tackled the job once again. It took 4 hours to remove the polyfilla from the screws; it took 30 seconds to pull the ceiling panel down:
I reattached the wire for the light and gave it a good tug this time (not chancing that problem again). I then set about my one woman job of putting the ceiling back together.

I failed, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. The ceiling panel was big and I’m little. I could hold the panel in place but I didn’t have a spare hand to secure it. I tried using my head but even that wasn’t big enough. In the end I resorted to bullying Smiles, my neighbour, into helping.

And so, tadda:

I promptly showed off my magnificent handy work and the fuse tripped. I tried showing off the lights a few more times and each time they tripped and left me light-less. So, I returned to cursing it and giving it the Evil Eye and planned never to attempt to fix it again. It was to stay like that, a constant reminder as to why I should never do DIY. It would be my bargaining tool with the hubby in a “Do you really want me to try and fix that? Look what happened the last time I tried. Really dear, you should fix it yourself,” kind of way.

But Rob, the ever practical chap that he is, suggested trying a different light bulb. So I did and it worked. There was much whooping and even a victory dance.

We now have working lights and this is good news.
Unfortunately, it also means that I’m forced to tackle job #2.
Plumbing.
I’ll let you know how it goes...