Opportunity Knocks

Often in life things occur when one is least expecting them. January is always a quiet month for us thesps, many of whom are either scraping off the makeup piled on from work over christmas or furtively avoiding the call from Debenhams for the Santa costume back.

I myself have been immersing myself in decorating my new cottage; I have to say it is very cathartic to move away albeit temporarily from subtext and motivation to flock wallpaper. I have to say those that have visited me have commented that my design is both original and striking. A new, undiscovered talent perhaps? I came up with the 'farmyard' design in conjunction with Chris Wainright, although I should point out Chris generously said I should take all the credit for it. Such was his generosity he turned down any money or undertakings of favours in return, finally stating - and I am having documents drawn up legally - that he wanted nothing to do with it.

The design itself is strikingly simple; pasture shades of green, mellowing into the golden tinge of Autumn, with the occasional brown dollop. The dollops themselves are affectionately known as Cow Pies, and with the three D glasses (optional) you can imagine cattle had indeed hoofed it across your wallpaper, leaving only the goodness of their excrement as the proof. You may also, should you wish, purchase the optional scratch and sniff accompanying the wallpaper.

it really is rewarding, living in a old house, to be a custodian of the past. There are so many parts of the house which I find enchanting. Only this morning I was delving into a Priests' nook, while this afternoon saw me sliding sideways into a concealed passage. I mentioned this in the pub - The Ryder - and was surprised when the Landlord informed me that 'we don't like that sort of talk in here, Mr McPhereson. If that is what you are after, try The Beefy Bicep on the Holland Road'. Bemused at their lack of interest in home improvement and local history, I ventured to the said hostelry, mentioned the same issues I had previously in The Ryder, and within an hour I had a small group of interested young workmen - evidently just finished a long, hot shift on site by the look of them - to come back and labour through the night.

Labour down here seems to be a different meaning to the one I was intending. Whereas what I had envisaged was some pointing, plastering and the odd bit of woodwork, what actually transpired was a lot of disco music and naked dancing. All very nice indeed, but not conducive to my cottage being restored. They also refused to leave, and as the Police report clearly states, they started the trouble.

When the fire was extinguished, I was left with nothing more than a letter opener, two chair legs and a roll of my wallpaper.