Listen carefully to one who knows, Dysons do not, I repeat DO NOT like hoovering up plaster dust. I know this because I've done it on two occasions, and on both occasions I have prematurely ended a Dyson's life. If you want to know what a Dyson sounds like when you kill it, it goes like this - EEEEEEUMMMMMPUH !
My absence from this blog has been due to somebody (me )deciding it was a good idea to pull down the old crumbling lathe and plaster ceiling in Molly's room. What a bloody mess, Then I also decided the chimney breast had to be stripped and re-plastered too, so the whole room and the rest of the house is now covered in a fine layer of plaster dust. There was even a fine film of plaster on my glass of wine last night, which is the final straw in my book.
The only pretty thing in Molly's room at the moment is her fireplace,
I started to rub back the old paintwork for re-painting,
and then decided I like it like this, nice huh ?
Molly, has been excitedly making things for her room when it's ready, here's a section of a painting we've been working on,
When I say 'we' I mean Molly has done all the fun bits and I was *allowed* to paint the background - "Mummy, I need to rest - you can finish off the pink bits for me" (rather in the style of Michaelangelo instructing one of his underlings methinks).
I 'd like to say this was a harmonious project, but I'd be a bare-faced liar. She was using MY expensive acrylic paints, and mixing them together willy-nilly to make a lot of sludgy browns, and abusing MY expensive brushes, so I had to get involved (bad Mummy). It ended up with a paint pallet being flung on the floor, and a brush aimed directly at me. Tempermental madam, I don't know where she gets it from.
I hope you have a lovely peaceful weekend, I'm out on the razz tonight with the girls, it's my friend's birthday and we may or may not be drinking cocktails.
I couldn't possibly say.