After the short delay caused by discovery of a septic tank last week, I was excited to receive a call from M. Voisin, the mason, to announce that he was ready to start sandblasting Nettie's façade.

It seems a long time since I learned how to repoint a wall at Mike Wye in Devon, and I realised that I had had little practical experience. Still, with the (foolish) confidence of the amateur, I felt ready to start work.

I'd been told that ideally the wall, once repointed, should be protected by hessian sacks to delay the curing process and stop the mortar crumbling away to sand. Too late for that; still, I managed to negotiate with M. Voisin, the mason, that the plastic wrapping that he would install on the outside of the scaffolding during the sandblasting would remain in place for the duration of the repointing to protect from the worst of the sun's rays and their drying effect.

Here's how she looked after wrapping:

The sandblasting went without a hitch, although I didn't envy M. Voisin and his crew their task. Vast clouds of sand billowed out onto the quay, and poor M. Voisin himself was kitted out in an air respirator; wallowing around inside Nettie's small rooms he looked like a demented deep sea diver trapped inside a tiny aquarium.

The weather, while gloomy, was perfect for the task in hand; fog rolled in off the sea in banks, and humidity was very high. I felt confident that I could start repointing as soon as the blasting was finished.

Twelve hours later, M. Voisin cleared off site, and I was ready to begin work.

It felt surprisingly high up on the scaffold, and surprisingly lonely. Although I was confident in the safety of the platform, there was quite a bit of movement, and the plastic wrapping filled out in the strong breeze, creating an alarming noise, like sails flying loose in a gale.

At the least the view was stunning, and as the usual hustle and bustle of the quay continued down below, I set to work.

The most difficult part was negotiating my way onto the working platform with my equipment and 25Kg tubs of mortar. I had to scramble out of the top floor window and drop down onto a step ladder – fine when your hands are free, not good when you've equipment to bring down as well.

The worst of it was the dust and the dampness – the scaffold was still covered in several centimetres of grit from the sandblasting, and that, combined with the dirt and general mess caused by the repointing made working conditions quite unpleasant. Quite a lot of the mortar managed to find its way in my hair, clothes, and most disagreeably of all, shoes.

The blackness of the plastic wrap created a funereal atmosphere, and I started to get really pessimistic. Why had this looked so easy back in Devon? And what on earth had made me think I could attempt such a mammoth task on my own?

Plus, I'm a really messy person at the best of times. I simply cannot be tidy. When I decorate, paint is literally everywhere. It's a combination of impatience and... well just impatience.

Lime mortar tumbled from the walls in heavy clods, ricocheting off the scaffold and thumping onto the concrete below. M. Voisin isn't going to be pleased with me; his brand new scaffold is literally festooned with mortar.

This is not looking like it should. Thick curds of mortar clung lumpily to the walls, and where I hadn't managed to get it into the spaces between the bricks, it was smeared liberally over the surrounding surfaces.

Little by little, my technique did seem to improve however, and I was soon able to get most of the mortar in the general direction of the walls and bricks without too much dropping off the trowel.

My principal worry now is whether I can keep the mortar damp enough to prevent it curing too quickly. I gather it can take many months to set completely, and that indeed some lime mortar was discovered still unset after 1,000 years at the centre of buildings in Ancient Rome.

Here's a little video of me in action, looking far more knowledgable and competent than I felt at the time.

As I write, some ten days later, the work to the facade is nearly complete, and although I can't share with you a shot of the final work, I can let you have a photo of this adorable dog, Ninette, who accompanied the electrician working at Nettie this week.

She was a joy to have around, and made a really unpleasant job a lot nicer.

For now, I just hope I've done enough in terms of regular spraying with water to keep the mortar in reasonable condition so that it doesn't become too friable. That would be heartbreaking and my fingers are well and truly crossed.

Until next time.

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