THE NEED FOR SCREED

‘Better poo at work as this floor’s taking ages to dry’ - the last text I sent to the other half from my joyless prison.

Seems like I’ve picked the hottest day of the year to get the fitters in to screed the bare corridor floor in preparation for LVT laying. My penance - spending the next 3-4 hours stuck in a hot, airless lounge with only a bucket to pee in.

BEFORE - bare floor ready to screed

Fiddly area to do

The poor bewildered moggy is probably wondering what he’s done to deserve being locked away in the bedroom where it is even hotter than downstairs. Poor Bertie. I’ll make it up to you later with some extra treats and belly rubs. He’s got a clean litter tray, large bowl of grub and a gallon of water so before any of you ring the RSPCA, I can assure you no cats were harmed in the making of this floor.

Meanwhile, stuck in the lounge with a bottle of chilled water and builder’s bucket in temperatures you could boil an egg in, my t-shirt has now collected enough sweat to water the veggies later on.

No good complaining, it’s gotta be done. I may have gotten away with screeding the floor of the downstairs loo but that was the size of a large postage stamp. This corridor is far too long and dog-legged to repeat the procedure especially since there are four doorways and the foot of the stairs to factor in. Leave it to the professionals, I say.

Screeding round the foot of the stairs

Several hours and half a dozen episodes of ‘Harlots’ later, the screed has slowly transformed from a shiny ice rink to a light grey haven of solidity, enabling access to both loo and kitchen. Hurrah!

Freshly poured screed

Smooth and shiny

What’s more, the smooth unblemished surface is deliciously cold so excuse me whilst I strip down to my kecks and go starfish on it but first of all, I’d best let the cat out.

Four hours later - all dried out

Lovely cold surface to walk on