Gravy in the Bathroom

"That'll be gravy," I advised Kathy, when she reported that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remove the stains from the bathroom carpet.

"What on earth was gravy doing in the bathroom?" she asked, astonished.

"It would date back to when the bathroom was Freya's bedroom, when she was ill," I explained.

Sashka and Kathy are here every day now.  The number of coffee and fag breaks we are enjoying, if that's the right word, are on the increase.  I have discovered that smoking in my home is illegal, since it became a public place.  I'm not sure the mercury has risen over 0C for a week now, and at the moment it is snowing yet again, with a wishy-washy wintry sun peaking through for the first time in living memory.

Just like the lead-up to the bed-and-breakfast weekend, I can feel myself, despite Sashka and Kathy's best efforts,  sliding back into panic-mode. Kathy felt the waves of it hit her this morning.

The carpet man didn't turn up, the hot-tub man didn't turn up, the plumber didn't ring back,  the gardener didn't turn up, my Auto Trader ad has been hacked into, or 'fished' so that I have had to change my password on everything, and the electric gate man, who hasn't returned a call or email in two months, has finally called to say he will pop by tomorrow. Meanwhile, whilst it is relatively straightforward to insure your house for renting out in its entirity, or for running a B&B business in, it appears to be impossible to insure it for a combination of the two.  I have three bespoke brokers on the case, who haven't quite got all the info they need. One of them is querying my use of the word 'entrepreneur'. "Well put 'single mother trying to make ends meet' or something," I suggested instead.

The piles of logs - well actually to be exact tree trunks - outside our house are now nearly touching the sky, and it feels like I am drowning in them.  I have warned my guests what to expect - I am so worried that they will be disappointed as they approach the house and see nothing but a huge pile of timber wrecking what was once a beautiful valley.  The wood comprises the livelihood of Kind Neighbour, for whom hill farming no longer pays the bills, so I can't moan about it too much.

Sashka and Kathy have spent days cleaning every cupboard and corner of every room in order to prepare the house properly for our visitors.  They have got as far as the main spare, Beloved Daughter's and Revered Son's rooms so far.  Every bed has to have a mattress and pillow protector, duvet, ironed sheet and duvet cover, and three towels. All are pristine new 100% Egyptian cotton.  I am going to have to leave the heating on 24/7 with this unseasonal weather - a fact which physically hurts! I really don't think I am going to make any profit at all from this first letting - but I comfort myself with the thought that it is nearly all stuff that had to be done anyway in due course.

I am worried about my horse who is coughing - it is too cold to suddenly leave the horses out so somebody is going to have to visit twice a day, and muck out while our guests are here; I am worried about packing for three people each spending the next week in two different countries; and I am worried about my stupid car which still hasn't sold and is deteriorating outside my house, and which now has a flat tyre.

And then in the middle of all of this, an email has arrived from my lawyer which means I suddenly have to get divorced as well, before she goes on holiday.  The forms are endless. I have signed off whatever it was this time, and hope for the best!

PS I didn't poison Esteemed Partner at all.  He had caught a bug, and his phone was in the next door room.