I'm going to have to phone Max Mosley soon for a bit of advice: how to successfully impose a budget cap on my other half's new kitchen! Sorry, our kitchen. It might be an easier task than stopping F1 teams spending money, but I'm not convinced...
As we sat having dinner a while ago, she was staring at the ceiling a lot. At first I figured it was just better to look at than me, which is sad considering it's a load of nasty stained tongue-and-groove wooden boards. Very seventies.
"It's got to come down," she said. And so, there I was, last Wednesday, armed with a crowbar, heaving down wooden planks, working out how many days before the plane left for Oz...
If you ever find yourself in this predicament, a pair of swimming goggles keeps the dust out of your peepers but gets a bit hot and steamy after a while. I took them off and took to looking down as I ripped down each board. Which was why I didn't spot the half brick that made a bid for freedom and rudely reminded me I don't have much hair.