The Polish Experience By Nicholas Westerby This ... - GetSab.Com

“It can’t be true anyway.” I said.
“What can’t be?”
“That saying, you are what you eat. I haven’t eaten any sexy beasts recently.”
I put down my sandwich and rolled Elly onto the floor. Our new mahogany
panelled floor. It seems stupid but having measured up and cut the pieces, laid
them down and connected them finishing off the aesthetic with the skirting
board, I felt really proud. Much more so than I ever had from work, more than
winning football matches or anything else, I knew what it meant to build
something now.
After I’d finished laying Elly on the newly laid floor we disassembled our bed
and moved it into our bedroom. The walls which I had planned to be a deep
purple were an off white pink. I don’t know what Dulux would have called it
but it looked like a baby’s strawberry yoghurt. The bathroom was orange and
green, the kitchen was the dark purple on two walls and coffee on the others and
Andrew’s room was sky blue. The hall was yellow but a sunset yellow, not the
horrible yellow like the village church.
We slept well that night and the next day was dedicated to tiling. The bathroom
was more difficult than the kitchen as it already had the toilet and shower
installed so I needed to use the rotary saw to cut the tiles. It was fun but when
the tile chipped up and nicked your skin it hurt like a muther fucker. I needed