Friday, February 24, 2006
What are the scores, George Doors?
They not only look like doors, they actually open and close, just like real doors.Gosh, this is getting good.
A "fitted" kitchen
So called because, when people ask how Helen felt when she was first given acccess to the new kitchen, I usually respond "Well, she fitted. For about 10 minutes. Then she was sick. Then she curled into the foetal position and sobbed for 2 hours".How do you plead?
I don't remember seeing it on the original plans, but we now appear to have some sort of dock, built on our upstairs landing.
Presumably, when all the work has been completed, we will be putting the builder on trial for Crimes Against Conservation.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
I'm confused
Everyone's always agreed that Helen would be able to cook even more fantastically when we got a new kitchen.But this bacon tasted pretty much the same to me.
Odd...
Now that's nice
The roof is complete.Funny how clay, which is only really posh mud, could cost so much money. But probably worth it, eh?
No, we're fine, really.
See, there's still one room in the house we can use. It might be our bedroom, but we've got internet access and hot food.Helen is even relaxing with a nice large glass of wine. Gosh, she's drinking it quickly. Really, really quickly.
Helen? Helen?
We love our friends
And they must have some kind of feelings for us (pity, probably) because they kindly let us leave behind our squalid, dusty building site and stay at their luxurious home once more.
How did we repay their kindness? By breaking their towel holder.
Ivor and Annie, we love you lots (and we owe you a plastic ring thingy).
How did we repay their kindness? By breaking their towel holder.
Ivor and Annie, we love you lots (and we owe you a plastic ring thingy).Monday, February 13, 2006
Is this right?
They've knocked a great big hole in our bedroom wall.So now we have two bedroom doors.
This will be useful for re-enacting various theatrical farces; the French maid can leave via one door, while a Vicar bursts through the other with his trousers around his ankles.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Real and present danger
While this might look like the sort of nightclub you end up in after moving drinking venues for the fifth time on a long and boozy night out, it is fact part of our "work in progress"The newspaper is hanging there purely so that - just before you plunge to your death on the floor below - you hear a faint rustling noise to remind you of the lack of any restraining rail.
It certainly makes night-time wee-wee a little more exciting...
Toilet's last stand.
At last, the time has come. This oddly coloured toilet has been un-installed, re-installed, raised, lowered and generally buggered about for many, many weeks. Through it all, it has remained steadfastly in service (albeit occasionally rather leaky, see below).It has, quite literally, swallowed all the crap we've given it.
But now, the walls grow ever nearer, the floor is removed and we all know the end is near.
Goodbye faithful toilet. And thank you...
The very real difference..
..between that which the builders consider "nearly finished" and our own view of same.I mean, yes, there's no grass visible, and the chickens can't get in anymore, but equally I can't see us sitting down for 'us tea' in this room any time soon.
Monday, February 06, 2006
1000 words = 1 picture
Trust me, you don't want pictures for this.
We have had some problems with the new plumbing (the fact that all of the builders refer to the plumber as "Captain Flood" should have warned us, really). On several occasions, water has been seen dripping through the ceiling. We put pots and pans out to catch the drips, we curse the plumber and we step around the puddles.
So, when the ceiling began to drip again, we were not overly concerned. Newspapers were distributed, a tray was put on top of the cupboard where the worst of the dripping was, and Captain Flood's ears began to burn as we cursed him, his forebears and his descendants.
Then one of the children used the toilet. Suddenly the dripping accelerated. And it was no longer completely clear. Is it my imagination, or do those drips look, well, slightly yellowish?
Yes, the pipe had fallen off the back of the toilet, meaning that it flushed directly onto the ceiling behind the lavatory wall.
And all of this into a kitchen where Helen was busily making sandwiches for school lunches. So busily, that when she needed something from the cupboard beneath the catching tray, she wrenched open the cupboard without a thought. The door caught the bottom of the - now brimming - tray, which tilted suddenly and dispensed its contents. Over the sandwich lady, and indeed the entire kitchen. The little that didn't spill was catapulted into the air when the tray struck the worktop on its way down. The walls were running.
Gentle reader, I must draw a veil over both the painful recriminations and the vile smells....
We have had some problems with the new plumbing (the fact that all of the builders refer to the plumber as "Captain Flood" should have warned us, really). On several occasions, water has been seen dripping through the ceiling. We put pots and pans out to catch the drips, we curse the plumber and we step around the puddles.
So, when the ceiling began to drip again, we were not overly concerned. Newspapers were distributed, a tray was put on top of the cupboard where the worst of the dripping was, and Captain Flood's ears began to burn as we cursed him, his forebears and his descendants.
Then one of the children used the toilet. Suddenly the dripping accelerated. And it was no longer completely clear. Is it my imagination, or do those drips look, well, slightly yellowish?
Yes, the pipe had fallen off the back of the toilet, meaning that it flushed directly onto the ceiling behind the lavatory wall.
And all of this into a kitchen where Helen was busily making sandwiches for school lunches. So busily, that when she needed something from the cupboard beneath the catching tray, she wrenched open the cupboard without a thought. The door caught the bottom of the - now brimming - tray, which tilted suddenly and dispensed its contents. Over the sandwich lady, and indeed the entire kitchen. The little that didn't spill was catapulted into the air when the tray struck the worktop on its way down. The walls were running.
Gentle reader, I must draw a veil over both the painful recriminations and the vile smells....
