As some of you may know, my hubbie is a Doctor in a very prestigious university and works in the Byzantine history department.
He also engages in archaeological activities linked to his research.
I know what you’re thinking,
and Yes, you’re right.
This means that I married some sort of English Indiana Jones that does both teaching and field work, unfortunately I have yet to find the whip, the fedora and some invaluable antiquities to add to my collection. 
I suppose that makes me one of Mr Jones’s floozies that he happens to meet in the most inconspicuous places.
But let’s not talk this very minute about my colourful career as Indiana Jones’s lover and world renowned showgirl and Gipsy rose lees main nemesis in the 1940s.
I’m getting to the point, I promise.
We’ve done some archeology of our own today.
And I’m really quite excited about the outcome.
After quite an interesting morning accompanying Daniels cousin to a house viewing and a very tedious afternoon sorting our wooden bookshelf’s delivery in Ikea, we managed to make it home safe and sound.
I was about to change a ceiling light in the living room when I’ve asked Daniel to cut the power.
Once the lamp was installed I’ve gone back to the fuse box we have in the entrance to light the power back.
In that moment, I think saint Margaret ( there’s an statue depicting her on top of the fuse box ) must have strike me with her lighting or something cos a crazy idea has come to my mind.
Inside the fuse box……right there in the floor……there was some wax paper, and underneath I could see…….TILES!
TILES dear
You surely are reading this properly,
TILES,
Glorious tiles,
The tiles I’m going to marry.
The tiles that will change the course of history.
The tiles to rule them all.
I swear to you that something was calling me from that corner, like those ghosts were calling Carol-Anne in poltergeist.
I started screaming of pure joy and Daniel thought I had had an electric shock so he came running towards me super worried.
And basically he’s found me , with incredibly watery eyes, having a meltdown and saying quite psychotically:
We’ve got tiles Dan, Minton tiles.
They’re here, under my body!( I know this makes no sense now )
I must have looked completely insane, crying on my knees in that disgusting laminate nightmare we had.
But you must understand, that one of the things we actually asked the previous owner was,if there was any tiles underneath the hideous, putrid laminate.
He swore for his life that there was just cement underneath.
R
I
P
honey, cos…..
We’ve struck gold!
The house doesn’t have many of its original features left, there’s just some plaster corbels, the staircase, a door and the outhouse. So this has been a major discovery.
Eat your heart out Howard Carter. This is gonna be bigger than Tutankhamen’s tomb’s discovery.
I’ve undertaken the dirty,unpleasant and not at all joyful task of cleaning the floor to prep it for proper restoration.
( and heres the end result, still a bit dirty but you can appreciate the floor in all its magnificence )
Little did I know that several previous clearly deranged owners decided to paste cement and linoleum glue in some areas of MY GORGEOUS FLOOR,and thanks to that now I need to scrub more than Hyacinth Bucket to make this floor resplendent.
Thanks previous owners. And I hope you’re dead, which most likely you’ll be due to the age of the house so I hope that a cat is pissing in your grave, for this heinous crime against common sense and style and all the cuts I got in my hands chiselling out your crap.
So basically now we’re adding another job to the bucket list, but clearly this discovery will save us tons of ££££ so we might be able to afford something pretty pretty and completely unnecessary that will discover that I can’t live without.
Yours sincerely,
Ben
The 1903 house 