You Can't Rush Art

Spring has arrived at my new farm in England's deepest South-West and it's beautiful there. The sheep have been lambing now for a month and the cattle are calving. The swallows have arrived and are nesting. In fact everything seems to be having a good time... except me.

You see, last Summer I came into a bit of money (thank you, New York), and I decided to extend the farmhouse a bit. Nothing fancy, just a bigger kitchen and an upstairs room, and a chance to get the water supply and the toilets working properly. So I asked at the local pub for the name of a good builder and I was given one.

Now here in London, a builder gives you an outrageous quote, you agree, he does the job as quick as he can, grabs the cash and vanishes. It doesn't quite work like that in the countryside. My builder is terrific. I say HE'S terrific, there are actually six of them, ALL terrific blokes, but money doesn't seem to be a great motivation.

They arrived last October and started knocking things down and digging things up and gradually the extension took shape. It's practically done now, but the trouble is, the builders won't go. You see, they're craftsmen, they don't like to leave a job until it's finished. And according to them, it isn't.

Every week, they seem to find something they're not totally happy with. A skirting board that's a bit wonky …some plumbing they say needs bringing up to scratch…. some wood stain they want to get right… and blow me down, they're back again the following Monday, all looking at the offending thing and discussing how it can be brought up to their rigorous standards.

They should have finished in March. Their target is now the end of May, but they always add, "that's if nothing else needs doing". Last weekend, they even asked me if I'd mind moving out for a couple of weeks, so that they could just put the finishing touches to something or other.

On Saturday, I consulted Bill Sykes, the blacksmith, whose family have lived in the village for generations. Over a warm pint of Theakstones Peculiar, the winner of April's Pub Quiz just laughed. "Nothing you can do," he said. "They'll work at their own speed and do a good job in the end. Mind you, I don't understand why you bothered altering that old house - I preferred it the way it was."
By Simon Bates