Went to see another house.

This time no work needing done, and around the corner from the other one we saw 2 weeks ago. The downstairs is massive, the only problem is upstairs is a bit tighter than we imagined. We actually wouldnt be able to get our bed upstairs unless we knocked a fake wall down.

So we'd be downstairs facing the front of the house. Have shelved that one. Plus its been on the market since March, and all of a sudden the estate agent phones approx 12 hours after our viewing to tell us that there has been an offer put on the table so we'd better move quick. I declined but said I hope they get a move soon, lovely couple. Estate agent said "I'll get back to you and let you know what they've decided". No idea what's going on.

In other news dragged Paul into uni on Monday with me to get him out, as spent all weekend in house. He LOVES Paisley. He thinks its lovely and is browsing the GSPC for houses. I told him I think he's mental basing a current living address on one bus trip and a cup of tea and a slice of cake. But what do I know.

I nearly vomited in a residents room yesterday. The guy should be on a dementia ward, but he's on ours. Went in to feed him mashed scrambled egg with brown sauce, which was already a boak-fest on its own. only to find he'd filled his continence pad and then painted the walls, the bed and himself with it. Operation clean up began. Then he vomited. I almost released breakfast.