D-I-Y. Three letters that sum up the day. Built my shelves late morning, leaving the hammering until there was a fair chance the neighbours would be up (or awake at least). It was surprisingly easy - but then it was Ikea - and within half an hour I had the CDs neatly lined up in their new compartments and the rickety shelves on the wall were breathing a sigh of relief.

This afternoon’s work, though, was more or less unintentional. I set out with a scouring pad on the bathroom ceiling to smooth down the edges of the curling up paint so I could slap on a new coat over the top (or underneath, I suppose, as technically what’s already there would be physically above it).

All was going well until a little bit of artex fell off and I picked away at the edges of the empty scar it left behind. This made it a bit bigger, but still little bits were falling off the edge. So, I picked a bit more. And then a bit more. And then some more, until there was about a foot square missing.

It was only then I realised I was pretty much committed to taking down the whole lot, so set at it with the only thing to hand - a penknife. Half an hour later I switched to a screwdriver (I have a pitiful tool cache). Going was painfully slow, and the sweat was running off me - so much so that the new extractor fan, which senses humidity, switched on all buy itself.

I’d started some time around half four, and made coffee at seven, with still about three-quarters of the room to go. The whole thing was rapidly turning into that episode of Father Ted where they try and hammer a little dent out of their car and several hours later, after more and more knocking, end up with a battered wreck.

So, while the kettle was boiling I had a dig around in the drawers to see what I could come up with to speed the scraping and found a pie slice. It wasn’t much wider than the screwdriver but it did at least have a better handle, so I took it back to the bathroom, not a mistral of swirling dust kicked around by the extractor, and started hacking away. Things started going much better, but I’d already cut my fingers and my palm was developing a nice red blister.

By nine I was having difficulty breathing through the dust and had to lie down for a moment. I picked the lounge rug, which was stupid - standing up ten minutes later I’d left a ghostly white print of my back and head on its blue weave.

By half ten I’d done all but about a square foot in one corner of the room, and a small channel running up along a wall, both of which were proving particularly stubborn. But I had no strength left in my arms and it was enough effort to keep balancing on the edge of the bath on tip-toe. So, I called it a day and retirieved the hoover, which jammed itself on the sheer weight of artex smothering the carpet. It took half an hour to get it all cleared away - excluding the edges, which have stayed as they are - leaving fifteen minutes for a quick shower.

I’d arranged with Mandy to do a slot on Through the Night with Steve Allen and quarter past eleven, so flopped in front of the ISDN in my dressing gown, a hit drink hugged in my aching hands, and waited for the call.

It’s a fair while since I’ve used the ISDN. I normally do Clive Bull by phone, so it was good to be sitting there with a proper mic and headphones again. Not a long piece as it was the first one of what’s slated for a weekly slot - more just an intro and a pointer to what’s coming in future weeks, although we did run through some email questions and fun sites.

The quality over the ISDN line from the new studios is fantastic - even better than it used to be from the ITN building. Perhaps it’s the new digital mics. Whatever. Anyhow, it was even more of a ‘really there’ experience than usual.

I can smell artex dust everywhere, and the carpet is full of footprints.

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