Hot roof, cold roof. It's all very confusing to me. I don't really need to know too much about roofs (and that is the plural, not "rooves") except that they keep the rain off and that they cost money to fix when you buy a house which has a history of dodgy roofing works. However, the nature of the roof can determine whether you need insulation in your ceiling.

I can confirm (I love that phrase, even though it's usually used in a very officious manner by most people who use it) that my kitchen ceiling was totally devoid of insulation when I pulled it down. Unless nasty black dust is a form of insulation, in which case it was covered. As was I. In nasty black dust.

I can now confirm that the entirety of my ceiling installation in that part of the house, is now filled with insulation material. This material is a patchwork of a sort of special foil-covered tough foam, which you cut to size and then squeeze, rigid, between the ceiling joists. It's all very simple in theory, and in practice it required a certain amount of trimming and bashing. It's taken a while to do it, but it's done and I'm pleased.

This morning, the builder commented on the lack of insulation at the very edges, where, quite frankly, I didn't have the patience to cut a small piece of the rigid insulation to squeeze into a tiny gap. He's going to whack in some rock-wool, so job done. I'm so poor at the last 5% of some jobs... Still, I've employed a builder who appears to be something of a finisher, so that's very good indeed.

Last night's after-work adventure was indeed varied. First off, I drove home and topped up the oil on my car. I have a lot of driving to do this weekend, and I've done a lot of driving recently. My car uses oil. It's probably best to top it up before the light comes on - then the engine is, largely, lubricated, which is apparently good. I emptied the boot, changed into work clothes and raced over to B&Q.

At B&Q I bought their last sheet of ceiling insulation. I noticed that it was damaged. I also noticed that I didn't need all of it. After waiting at the till for ages for some child to turn up with an air of pseudo-authority and authorise it, I got £2.60 off. Oh yeah. Rock and roll. Having lost my big craft knife somewhere, I'd bought a new one at B&Q, and I set about carving up my piece of insulation in the shop in order to make it easier to transport. I learned from the lessons of last time and cut it unequally, thus giving me more opportunities to get 31cm widths out of my pieces. The cuts I did last time were 60x120. This time I did an 80x140 and a 40x100 (or there abouts). Bonus.

Back home I was just in time to meet the lady picking up the PA system that she'd lent me to run her gig last Sunday.

Then I insulated the ceiling. Bish bash bosh. Job done.

I took some washing round to the generous people who do my washing and picked up the clean stuff.

Then to Asda. I bought a new shirt to wear for this afternoon's appointment. Very nice. I also bought a bathmat.

A refuelling stop at the petrol station, enabling me to buy some vaguely healthy convenience food, and I was on my way home.

I did some of my ironing, including ironing the new shirt. I've now run out of deionised water - or MANLY IRONING WATER as I like to call it. Concurrently, I watched the last episode in my Peep Show box set. Very good.

All I had to do then was have a shower and collapse in a heap of my own productivity.

This may or may not be interesting to read, but it does have the benefit of not being in any way false.