Dust

I really don't mind managing the renovation. I carefully account for every penny (centime) that is spent. I organise and plan the logistics of getting the right material and fixtures and fittings delivered and available when needed ( subject to the French system of not wanting to sell you anything!). I am very keen to learn new skills that will both benefit me and speed up the renovation process. I work on my London job whenever needed, at any time of day. I work on the renovation whenever needed, at any time of day. I keep the place clean. I prepare lunch and dinner every day. I do all the shopping as necessary. I leave the skilled work to the genius and help him as much as I can, which means I do a lot of labouring, and all the painting and the goddam, bloody awful, absolutely crappy job of sanding down the splatter shite that was indescriminately sprayed all over the walls and ceilings of the separate apartment and the studio.

I have raised this subject before but I hesitate not to raise it again. Attacking the walls isn't too bad as most of the dust falls straight down to the floor (most, that is). The ceilings, however, are a different matter, because they are impossible to do without getting absolutely covered with the resultant residue of plaster and dust - in my hair, in my eyes and despite my protective mask, up my nose and in my mouth.

We have tried to minimise the effects The walls are done by hand in small sections and cleaned up immediately. The ceilings are done at the end of the working day - all tools removed from the immediate vicinity, all interconnecting doors shut, the genius and his computer/music provider made scarce.

After five minutes, you are happily sanding away; arms don't ache, you can still see what you are doing and you are breathing normally but the air is a bit cloudy with the dust. After fifteen minutes, your arms are starting to ache, your eyes are getting bombarded with bits of debris, visibility is reduced and you are wondering how much more you can do. After thirty minutes you have more than had enough, your arms are burning, your eyes are smarting and clogged up and visibility is zero in the dust filled air. So I shut the door and leave the dust to settle until the morning when the first job is to clean up. In the meantime I become a walking dust ball - it is impossible to move from work room to shower without leaving a trail of dust. I look like a yeti - I look like a scary monster according to my wife. Everything I touch results in a small dust cloud. Taking my work clothes off before showering results in a large pile of dust on the bathroom floor. Please, please someone save me from the dust.