The dining-room floor was laid yesterday, and it is beautiful -- even though it is very obviously not the same shade of brown as the abutting floor in the sitting room. That's the last time I consult Himself on a colour comparison and let his opinion over-rule my doubts.

The sample board provided by the flooring supplier was more of a hindrance than a help. No matter how I held it, I could not align any of the most likely samples with the existing floor. Also, during the week we had it, Stratford lay under a blanket of cloud that made high noon look like supper-time, making colour discrimination that much more difficult.

We had a short, blunt discussion of the issue yesterday and decided that we shall never mention it again. If necessary, we can use it as a litmus test for potential jerks; he who mentions it in criticism can be safely identified as a jerk and never asked back.

Cabinet installation is going well, and the shape of the kitchen to come is now clearly evident. It will work, and it will look "sharp" as Himself says. The counter-tops (five slabs of granite) and the new appliances are due to arrive on Monday, which will therefore be fraught with incident.

Meanwhile, in other parts of the forest, I am cleaning up after the plaster work. The forced-air heating system distributed grey powder throughout the house, so I have been wiping and vacuuming as if expecting an inspection by the Admiral of the Fleet. After a day of cleaning dusty books, my voice is reduced to a creak and I sneeze volcanically -- but the damn' books and the shelves they sit on are clean! Well, clean-ish. As clean as aging books can be expected to be.

The north-facing window of the study has proved perfect for my collection of orchids, which are putting out flower spikes at a great rate. They look a bit ... shall we say ... surprising, among the computer equipment and bookcases, but their continuing vitality perks me up no end.