Bleak House 3 (That blasted door again)

I’m so lucky that my father is around to set an example for my sons – a How Not To Behave example that is.  I’ve realised that I should never moan about teenagers again, and every time I’m tempted, I must look at my father and realise how wise and sane the boys are by comparison.

Because just when I thought it was safe to start answering the telephone and opening emails again, my father’s front door saga returns.

I’m not sure I can count high enough to tell you how many coats of paint it’s now received. 

And lost. 

And received again. 

I’d come to terms with its varying states of undress and accepted that my next involvement would be the grand finale, scheduled for Thursday when I would be delivering the first of its topcoats.

Then I receive an email telling me the door was removed on Monday and is trestled up inside the house, ready for Thursday’s painting:

-  Yes, it’s still cold
-  Yes, it means that the house can not be left unattended
-  No, I still don’t know the full extent of their nocturnal defences

Wouldn’t put it past my father to have drawn up a sleep rota by now, and assume the hall must be peppered with assorted garden weapons – sorry - implements, and perhaps a few hedgehogs superglued to the floor in case the burglars take their shoes off upon (not) breaking and entering.

But what I want to know is, why you would take off your front door THREE days before it’s due to be painted?

Just hope when I go there tomorrow that I won’t find the dog has been pinned across the doorway in my father’s attempts to meet both insulation and security needs.