One Must Do Something to Kill Time.

When our two year stewardship of 'The DSM' magazine came to an end we found we had lots of lovely time on our hands. I'm not a golfer and Anna, my wife, doesn't like gardening (she will sit on the lawn mower, for a couple of hours, but that's it). So time began to drag.

Anna announced she needed 'a new project'. This made me nervous as her new projects usually involve me. How right I was.

For the past eighteen months we have been renovating a small town house. Our life has revolved around the project; everyday scraping, sanding, filling, painting - I don't own an article of clothing that doesn't have a dab of paint on, I was constantly picking flakes of lead paint from my hair and don't get me started on my fingernails. 

As well as learning things about renovation (like never doing it again), we have learnt things about each other. Yes, I won't lie, our marriage has been sorely tested. Arguments have occurred and tears have been shed (although, to be fair, Anna always apologises when I start crying). 

At the start of project looking at the crumbling walls, leaky roof, rotten wood and brown paint everywhere I thought we would never finish. But finish we did. We began at the beginning and kept going until the end and then we stopped. We are really proud of what we have achieved; although it was hard work, has probably shortened my life expectancy by ten years and I now walk with a limp, it was worth doing. 

We celebrated by inviting all the neighbours who had had their tranquil lives' shattered by the sound of drilling and hammering for the last eighteen months, for a small soirée. It was a funny old evening. We thought it would last an hour and a half tops, how wrong we were. I've never known so much alcohol to be consumed by so few – after the sparkling wine was finished, the red wine came into play, after that was polished off Anna's home brew was unleashed. When that vanished I thought people would start rootling about in the under sink cupboard for a bottle of methylated spirits but our neighbour suggested karaoke and the party moved next door. It was the same night the news of the Queen's death was announced so every few minutes we would toast Her Maj. 

The renovation process was all consuming. Not a day went by I wasn't wandering the aisles of a bricolage. All our conversation was about the house; in the evening Anna would thrust a picture of a tap or a tile in front of me and ask what I thought. I dreamt about it. In my weekly family zooms my news was “I've been tiling the kitchen floor” or “good news, we now have a working toilet”. But now it's finished...finished.

We have so much time on our hands now. Dare I say there is again a bit of a hole in our lives; an emptiness. We have tried to fill our days: Anna has started walking ten thousand steps a day. She can often be seen at night walking round the garden “I've only got 500 to go!” a voice will be heard in the darkness.

I have tried to keep busy... I have cleaned the barns, rearranged my sock drawer, have even started watching Countdown. I am a keen horticulturist, but me and the garden are not speaking at the moment after all my hard work in the first part of the year shrivelled away to nothing in the second. 

I am not talking to the chickens either. They have stopped laying ever since the really hot weather. I don't mind them taking a break but it's been about four months since I've had a boiled egg. I've told them if they don't start laying someone might forget to shut their door at night. 

We have tried to up the ante to master the French language. Anna listens to our old friend Michel Thomas when she is pounding the country lanes ( 'quelle est la situation politique et économique?') and I am duolingo-ing 'tous les jours'. To improve our language skills we go for coffee every Sunday morning. We are only allowed to speak French to each other. Conversation can often turn into listing parts of the bodies, vegetables or animals. We are worried we are creating a language that only we understand. Like two Joey Deacons.

Well enough of me rambling on to you dear reader...those DVDs won't alphabetise themselves. I'll say 'au revoir' and let you get onto the Sudoku.