The plumber came round this afternoon. We’d sent him a list of things we wanted to put in there: a bath, a toilet, a sink. Stuff like that. He wanted to discuss it with us. Most of the things were fine, but I’d put the wrong sink on the list; the one I really wanted was fine, whereas the one I’d listed wasn’t.
There were other things on the list that need the expertise of our friendly electrician, such the extractor fan and the industrial-strength shower I’d selected.
The plumber also wanted to know if he could bring his mate, a chippy, round to do the boxing in. I would have thought that would be ok. He should be able to build some sort of better storage unit on the wall than I can manage.