C is for Clerk of Works

Filed, naturally, under W for Wife.

I'm not sure that researching and producing international conferences for tens or hundreds of executive delegates in my former life really prepared me for the role of Clerk of Works in the decidedly non-FTSE listed company that is the Celestial Swamp. It has not, however, prevented that mantle being hung over my shoulders.

On first name terms with a local builder, plumber, electrician, digger-man, fencer, oil and gas companies,farmers, I can name endless websites dealing with the prices of sheds and field shelters, know that the planning officer at the local council is helpful, that if the water table rises to a certain level the downstairs loo will back up and muggins will be up to her elbows in it, that aggregate is delivered by the ton and that, these days, my teenage sons can shift it more easily than I can, but choose not to. I do battle with non-commitant companies trying to wriggle out of guarantees, and know that buried somewhere in the garden is an electric wire that used to run to a now defunct greenhouse - one day we'll dig it up!

In my deadline imposed writing schedule I failed to factor in the endless hours that sorting out a damp wall in the study would take. The builders have done their bit, for now. The damp-proof course company are, naturally, blameless. The wet walls apparently have nothing whatsoever to do with the failure of their action and we play a game of cat and mouse with irate phone calls and succinct letters taking up too much time.

Proposed action in the yard and fields has been on hold due to the inability of the water table to subside sufficiently between bouts of rain. I negotiate deals, have to let them lapse and begin again. Pacing distances, measuring the same, wondering the cost effectiveness of this field shelter versus that garden shed, drawing planning permission diagrams

Sometimes it's hard to focus on storyline when, in the middle of wondering whether character A really would murder her husband, or simply try to poison him to give him a nasty fright, I am distracted by a 'phone call suggesting that I make five others and that the caller will, 'get back to me'  - this week, next week, never. We aren't sinking in the Celestial Swamp, but I shall need to become Clerk of Works full time over Easter to ensure that we don't.