“They say Rome wasn’t built in a day. But then, Rome’s lead architect didn’t have a carpet fitter booked for Friday morning acting as a literal sword of Damocles over his head.“

The PlayStation Grey Gambit

We have come an incredibly long way since my last arena update. Looking at the progress photos, I’ve transitioned from a derelict squat to what might be certified as a “functional room.”

Let’s talk about the walls. Yes, I know this is a very thought provoking and emotive subject that really boils the blood in some passionate people, but I have to start somewhere. I have applied no fewer than four coats of paint on these liquid sponges. One white base coat followed by a triple-layer onslaught of B&Q’s budget Dakota Grey. In hindsight, trying to save money on budget paint is a false economy. The amount of my remaining human lifespan I traded away rolling extra coats onto these walls suggests I should have just bought the premium Dulux and saved my soul.

But there is a silver lining to all this roller induced RSI. The final shade is a dead ringer for the classic original PlayStation Grey. That is a major victory, and I am claiming it. Sure, if I could turn back time, I’d spend another three days meticulously sanding down the plaster for a glass smooth finish, but in the DIY game, perfection is the enemy of “done.”

The floor has been an absolute battleground. I’ve spent weeks squeezed into corners, leveling everything as humanly possible. Even using a spirit level and still producing the same devastating, wonky results.

Because of the joist repairs, my Chinese electric jigsaw has been working some heroic level overtime trying to patch up the historical craters in the floorboards. Are there gaps? Yes. Are there still a few lumpy, bumpy bits in the road? Absolutely. But I am placing an immense amount of tactical faith in underlay and the strategic placement of heavy gaming desks to smother those sins forever. This is an elite level of strategy that I am sure has been adopted by those who were running that TV Series – Changing Rooms.

The concrete leveling compound next to the door has officially been poured. It’s in the hands of the gods now. The integrity of the substance will be decided by the feet of the people.

The window box is now completely filled in and structurally sound. Right now, it is serving as a high-density storage unit for every tool I own, which is a classic sign of a job well done.

But it presents a creative dilemma. What color do I paint the interior? I know for a fact I want the shelf element to be a striking **red**, but the rest of the recess? I’m locked in a state of paralyzing indecision. It’ll probably end up PlayStation Grey to match the rest of the room, but I fancy a bit of PS2 Blue. These are the heavy, existential choices that keep me awake at night.

Carpet Day fitment day is Friday. The woolen flooring is coming, ready or not. This last week alone has been an absolute, unglamorous DIY grind, especially as I am working nights at the moment. It’s the kind of gritty, dusty progress that doesn’t make for a shiny, high production value social media reel. But this is the real story. It isn’t all glitz and glamour. It’s manual labor, a jigsaw that’s begging for retirement, and a prayer to the baby Jeebus that the carpet underlay is thick enough to hide my architectural crimes.

Onwards to Friday. If you don’t hear from me, assume I wired my recently purchased Amazon Prime LED light incorrectly and have successfully joined the national grid.

What Next?

So here we are, staring down the barrel of a looming carpet-fitting deadline. Once the blue tweed is down, the clock starts ticking on a much larger mission on my RAF Career timeline: my upcoming 4 month Falklands deployment starting in September. As this massive, entirely different milestone bears down on me, I’ve had to break the immediate post carpet fitment tasks into a few tactical mini targets. These are the absolute minimum objectives that need to be secured before I pack my bags:

• Roof Light Integration: I’ve ordered a new ceiling light fixture off Amazon. How difficult could it possibly be to install? As an RAF Armourer, I’m rating this a solid 0/10 on the difficulty scale. What is the worst that can happen? (Never ask that question!).
• Deconstruction of the Fluorescent Era: To put the new light up, I have to take the old, industrial fluorescent fixture down. This is where things get interesting. I’m reasonably confident I won’t cause a catastrophic electrical fire that levels the street. Reasonably.
• The Overhead Polish: While I’m up there wrestling with the wiring, the ceiling needs a quick, painless coat of white paint. A cinch.
• The Skirting Board Postponement: I’ve officially run out of time to fit the skirting boards before the carpet arrives. It sucks, because I really wanted that sharp red border installed first, but reality has forced my hand. They’ll have to go on post carpet.