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.