Can't remember who sang that old song, but it's the one I'm singing. (Trev informs me it's the Drifters)
Trev has been able to get back to the house recently after stints on his back and on pain drugs, and then out in the apple orchard. He's all fired up finished with posts and beams and has his first 6.5 metre long rafter up. We managed to do it together, I must admit I wait for some catastrophic gravitational event at every moment, assuming of course, that I will fail to notice, or not have the strength to obviscate some disaster that will kill one or both of us, probably simultaneously, just to make insurance policies extra difficult. Of course it all went according to Trev's plan, with a bit of, 'why don't we?' input from me. I'm hoping by the time the house is finished I've got one heck of a lot better at climbing tall ladders without shakey knees, running over joists without 'envisioning' an inevitable bone snapping sound and moment. I'm really looking forward to the mud and straw part they are so much more my kind of element than chainsaw carpentry and trignometry of a truly awe inspiring kind (I am mathematically impaired).
So it's with great respect I watch Trev cut out notches at particular angles in exacting exactness so that birds mouth joins and other complex 'bits' fit glove like. I've included one at the end of this 6.5metre behemoth as an example, plus one of Trevor taking a moment out to survey the new view from the top.