The Tantrum

Although I told Nek off this morning, he managed to arrive 10 minutes before me, at about 3.30. I threw the planned tantrum, telling them I was disgusted by their performance and ashamed to be a member of the same species (or words to that effect). Kitti had also decided to prolong his holiday, so I bawled him out down the phone, making sure to do it within hearing of the others.

But of course if you make a dragon you have to pay for it, so I then had to hang around till 7 pretending to keep an eye on their every move, bored out of my mind. Along the way I gave one of the girls an earful for sitting idly around, and told Big not to be an arse and start puttying the seams in one wall before trying to screw on a few more panels in another but do one thing at a time, for the satisfaction of having done something properly and going to bed content. Which reasoning was much appreciated, and indeed by the end of the day he'd puttied over most of the inside of the wall and looked pleased with himself, no doubt faking it for my benefit. I keep looking into his bad eye instead of the good one.

Not a peep out of Knotty, which was satisfying. I think the only one who really appreciated my antics was the little bow-legged woman who lugs the heavy equipment, having more wit than the lot of them put together but being relegated by tradition to the most menial tasks.

Chang Poon, the cement expert, really is a wizard, not only with an unerring feeling for a plane surface without need for a spirit level but with the sort of craftsman's pleasure in his own practiced motions that you always read about but rarely see. Didn't even like it when Nek chatted to him, so caught up was he in his work. For how long? Well... Then again when I addressed him in the language he gave me a bloodshot look and said I'm sorry I have no idea what you're on about, and Nek had to translate my Thai into his. By the end of the day they'd plastered the inside of the bathroom walls.

With so much time to kill I also went and enlisted the girl in the shop next door to spy for me, established the quantity and price of the paint I'll need for the first floor and the heat-reflecting paint for the top -- a snip -- and got the garden-centre woman to find me a tree surgeon for that unkempt monstrosity outside. It'll all come crashing down round my ears soon enough.

In the evening a lovely breeze blew through the open first floor and I went for a walk down the side-soi, to the accompaniment (this being a Mooslim area) of evening prayer.