I will start.
Something triggered a memory this morning, about 35 years ago we were selling our Victorian house, a surveyor came to do the buyers report.
My husband had said if you can stop him from going in the attic I will be very grateful.
I dressed up to the nines, full make up and my most flattering jeans and a crisp white shirt, I was a neat size 8 in those days and only 25!
When he said he was going up to the top, I told him how we had an electrician up there the previous week (lie)and that he had come down covered in soot and the carpet was nearly ruined.
To my amazement he said that everything looked fine and he couldn’t really imagine finding anything bad up there.
Am I forgiven or condemned?
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