Getting even more plastered

I've brought you some tales of woe regarding tradespeople in the past, especially recently, so it gives me great pleasure to give an unconditional and heartfelt thumbs up to our new plasterer, together with grateful thanks to Bon for the recommendation.

Wayne called several times before actually starting the job, to check we were ready and get an idea how much of the original plaster had come off. He arrived at the time he said he would arrive. He listened to the story of the leaking central heating pipes, picked up my wrenches and tightened the joints, then waited while I repressurised to check the leak had stopped. He and his mate Pete treated our home with respect, putting down dust sheets and mixing the plaster outside to reduce dust and mess. Some people see wooden painted stairs and bare floorboards and seem to assume the house is a building site and they don't need to take care. Not these guys.

They arrived shortly after 7.30am and worked virtually non-stop until 4.30, by which time they'd completed the ceiling and most of the walls of my side (leaving only the chimney breast and the small alcove to the left) and one wall of Nikki's side, as well as having prepped both halves of the room completely and applied bonding to the skirting board areas where there had been considerable fallout.

While they were here, we went about our business, dropping Paul at the airport at 10.30, completing a swift grocery shop for the long weekend with the girls and unloading that. I picked my girls up at the appointed time and returned to a job almost complete, bar a little polishing. Their parting words for the day were a promise to return at the same time tomorrow...

End of the line

Today was to be a day of two tradespeople. The window men were due to reappear and finish the study windows, and we expected the plumbers this afternoon to remove the two radiators.

When the doorbell rang at 7.30 I thought it was very early for either of these two and I was right. It was a neighbour, who stood on the step with two pieces of car door mirror in his hands and said "sorry John, I think someone's had your mirror." They had indeed. The daft prats who tear along our road at upwards of 50 miles an hour in the dead of night (the road is only *just* long enough to reach that speed between junctions, but they do it anyway) had misjudged the distance between parked cars and clipped my driver's door mirror. The mount had flipped forwards as it is designed to, but not before the mirror shattered and the cowling cracked off completely. A fine start to the day.

Window men were next. Only it was window *man* today. With just one double sash to do, there wasn't enough room for two of them to work. He'd brought the new windows with him, and very lacklustre they looked. No attempt had been made to match the existing windows, and the frames looked to be made of the cheapest softwood money can buy. What a difference from the solid mahogany sill installed by our previous window man.

The plumbers turned up unexpectedly around half past ten. They removed the radiators within half an hour and were on their way. Just one problem. The leak around the valve which I'd started two days previously was WORSE when they left than before they arrived, and they'd also created a leak around the valve of the other radiator. So much for calling in the professionals. We had towels around both pipes all day and night until the pressure equalised and the leaks stopped, but it meant we couldn't repressurise the system or run the heating. Doh!

With the radiators off, Paul and I could complete the removal of all the dodgy plaster, and take the rubble to the tip. But there was even more loose plaster behind the radiators, so that all had to come off too. Worse, the remaining two lengths of skirting board were up close and personal with the leaking radiator valves, so it took a little ingenuity to cut and prise, jiggle and cajole the board up from behind the pipes without doing any more damage.

Towards the end of the afternoon, with the windows almost done, window boy began to "caulk" the outside joint between the window and the brick. With mortar. Now call me mad, but I've always assumed a joint between wood and brick has to be filled with something a little bit flexible. Otherwise it simply dries, cracks, and falls out. I called the boss.

"Oh no, we always do it that way. It's traditional and it matches what you've got already."
"I've used builder's mastic in the past."
"Well, yes, you can do it that way. That's the modern way. But we prefer mortar and we find most of our customers do too."

Yes, it's the modern way because it works better. Why is it important to "match what's there" on a first floor window that you can only see from a distance of thirty metres or more? Who will notice it doesn't match? I want something I won't have to replace in two years. You prefer mortar because it's the cheapest and quickest option. Don't blather on to me about "tradition."

In the end I decided to cut my (stress) losses and not argue. I just paid up and got rid. Suffice to say that this particular company will never get any more work out of me. They've scuffed up my interior decorating, gouged holes in my window sills, would have left chunks of rubble on my conservatory roof if I hadn't asked them to clean it off, used sub-standard materials for replacement sills and sashes, and not finished the job off properly on the outside. Piss-poor and I'm glad to be rid of them.

Paul & I tidied up the room ready for tomorrow's plastering to start, and we all repaired to the Nawaab for an excellent curry dinner and more telly. A great way to finish a very frustrating day.

Remember how simple things aren't

Because today was supposed to be the day the window men came back to finish the job. Only they hadn't arrived by 9.30 and when I phoned to ask where they were, the boss man said he "thought we'd said Wednesday." Well no, mate, actually. You said Tuesday. And now you've buggered up our plans for the entire week because Nikki has to work today and we were planning to take Paul out for the day tomorrow. So now Paul and I have to amuse ourselves for the day and tomorrow we all have to stay in. Nice.

I took Paul into the city on the bus. We wandered round some of the sights he hadn't seen until we fetched up at the Science and Industry Museum (which I notice has now been rechristened MoSI, presumably in some sort of retro homage to MoMA) where we spent an enjoyable few hours before repairing to the Ox(noble) on Liverpool Road for a pint. This has recently won gastro pub of the year for 2007, but we declined any temptation of a mid afternoon meal. It was already 3pm by the time we arrived and we were eating shortly after 6, so we just had a pint. Then Paul suggested another pint, after which we thought a third pint might be a good option. I rarely have chance for a relaxed lunchtime drinkie and I am on holiday after all! They were serving Deuchars too, which only added to the temptation.

Having spent a delightful 90 minutes bantering with the landlady we rolled out of the pub, walked the 20 minutes to the bus and careered back to ours just in time to set off to collect Nikki from work, make some excellent chicken tikka wraps and collapse once more in front of the telly. A very relaxing day, made all the more enjoyable by being a spur-of-the-moment occasion. Paul is such good company I could easily while away several days on a bar stool sharing pints and anecdotes.

Rip it up and start again

We pretty much had the day off yesterday to recuperate after the very late night. My Nottingham mates, having stayed over the road with a neighbour, arrived for breakfast around 11.30 (about an hour after we'd got up) and departed shortly after 1pm, full of coffee and toast. We headed to the Trafford Centre to stock up on a few essentials (like thank-you cards!) and then crashed out in front of the TV with some chicken tikka wraps.

Having gathered our strength, today was the day for starting to rip-out the study. We're having it completely plastered out later this week and before that we have to take off the picture rail, skirting boards, radiators, sockets and switches, and any blown plaster.

Radiators. Yes. In theory, the removal of a radiator is a simple process involving turning off the valves at each end, undoing the connections on the radiator side of said valves, allowing it to drain and then lifting it off its brackets. In practice it's not always that simple, especially when the radiator is old, the connections are corroded, and there's only a fraction of an inch of pipe between the valve and the floor. So it was no surprise when I got to step 2 of the above process, and sprung the seal on the pipe side of the first valve.

The leak was not serious enough to call out an emergency plumber, but it demonstrated beyond doubt that the task was beyond my limited plumbing capabilities. If I loosened the valve too much I would have no way to stop the flow of water from the pressurised system and I knew I'd be in real trouble. I decided to wait and call in a professional.

So we turned our hands to the less demanding task of ripping out. The picture rail came out very cleanly, despite being nailed into wooden wedges that had been jammed between bricks. The skirting boards were not such a simple task. In many places they weren't only nailed to the walls but to the floorboards too. And on the internal walls, still the original lath-and-plaster, it was quite tricky to lever the skirting away from the wall without destroying the wall in the process.

Removing skirting often dislodged some of the plaster too. I already knew it was blown on the right-hand side of my window, but I wasn't prepared for how much of the chimney breast on Nikki's side was beyond salvage. Having checked with the plasterer we've agreed it will be easier to remove all of this and dry-line the chimney breast rather than try to patch what's there, so the rest of this will be coming off tomorrow. The plaster beside Nikki's window is fine, but the left-hand side of mine proved as bad as the right. The whole lot had to come off.

We took off the dowelled corners from both chimney breasts too. This is an original feature but makes it much harder to get a decent finish on the plaster, and we're not attempting a renovation here. The study will be a modern room filled with computer gear and such, so we want nice crisp lines.

All the plaster debris had to be shovelled into rubble bags and the nails punched out of the timbers to make transport to the dump tomorrow easier and safer. By 5pm Paul and I were both knackered, so we took turns for the shower and then tucked in to the wonderful beef bourgignon that Nikki had been cooking all afternoon.

The tradition lives on

I may have mentioned that I've lived on this road twice before. Once as a student and once when I first started working in Manchester almost exactly 30 years ago.

In my student days we had a great tradition of holding parties where we would stock the cellar with real ale (we started with one firkin but by the time we held our last party we were up to three firkins - 27 gallons - to ensure everyone was well watered) and invite everyone we knew.

I'm glad to say that tradition is alive and well. OK, it was our dining room we stocked with ale since we don't have a cellar and we didn't invite *everyone* we know, but by the time the party was in full swing we had 55 revellers in the house and we were BUMPING. Almost all the neighbours turned up, some from Nikki's workplace, some from mine, two-thirds of my mates from Nottingham, more than a dozen Chorlton Players and an identical number from Chorlton Chapters. Although we didn't achieve much of a mix between the various groups (the house is big enough to form cliques in different rooms and full advantage was taken of that) there was a small amount of cross-fertilisation, mainly under the gazebo where the smokers gathered and in the conservatory where people congregated if they wanted somewhere to sit where there was no music.

I started serving my famous chilli at around 9.30pm with baked potatoes. Once people had the idea that it was available I left them to it and when I returned to the pot - a tureen about the size of a 2-gallon bucket - an hour later it was virtually all gone. The karaoke was a huge hit (so much so that several neighbours asked me if we could organise to have it at the street barbecue in four weeks time) but we knocked it on the head at 2am out of consideration for our neighbour, even though we think he's probably too deaf to have been disturbed by it.

By that time about half the guests had left anyway, and the rest continued to leave in dribs and drabs until about 4am when we were left with a tight kernel of revellers who just wanted "one last pint" before calling their taxi or, in the case of Andy and Lara, remounting their tandem and attempting to cycle home.

It's always a worry having such a large party, especially when you know there are some inveterate piss-heads on the invite list, but we got off remarkably light in terms of damage. The hot tap in the bathroom, which turns the wrong way for "on," was by the end of the evening so loose that you had to hold it to turn it on at all. I knew I was fighting a losing battle putting up a sign saying "turn anti-clockwise for on, if the tap is stiff you're turning it the wrong way" but I felt I had to try. I guess you don't read notices when you're drunk. I retightened it this morning and it doesn't seem to have suffered any permanent damage.

One of the guy-ropes on the gazebo looked to have snapped when one of the girls from the book club fell through it into our pond, but on closer examination it had simply slipped its knot and was perfectly fine, so the only damage there was to her pride. And maybe a bruise here and there. And the fact she had to go home stinking of stagnant water. I think we'll have more lights in the garden next time. Our security light chose a particularly inopportune moment to blow its bulb.

Despite making it clear on the invite that we didn't want any housewarming presents, several of our friends and neighbours couldn't stem their generosity and we've ended up with some lovely new stuff, which was completely unexpected and very touching.

We kicked the final guest out at 4.15am this morning and I spent another hour clearing up before finally hitting my pit at 5.25 - exhausted but very pleased with how it all went, very happy, and feeling very blessed to have such fantastic friends and neighbours.

Two Views

Today is a day of two views. This is the view from where my desk is now in the study. The window is boarded up awaiting its new sashes (due on Tuesday) and we'll be having karaoke up here in about 8 hours time. The room is almost empty - in a few moments I'll be turning off my PC (when the music file copies to our XBox Media Centre are complete) and moving it out of the way.

Yesterday was totally taken up with party preparations. We moved things, we cleaned things, we made signs to help people over the idiosyncracies of the house (like the light switch for the downstairs loo being outside and round the corner, and the fact that the hot tap in the bathroom has to be turned clockwise for "on"). Paul spent the afternoon playing with our new pressure washer, cleaning the algae and dirt off the deck and the front path so none of our guests will break any legs. We didn't know any of the stone had a colour other than muddy green! The postman will be very happy!

Around 5.30 Annie came round to wire up the karaoke and we began copying files to the XBox, which will provide the music in the lounge through the surround-sound system. But the most important part of yesterday was testing how well the Jennings had settled, and this is the second - rather more welcoming - view I wanted to share with you.

The view in the dining room. Paul and I tried a glass last night and the beer is perfect. Crystal clear and with a lovely nutty hoppiness that you can only get from real ale, and then only at its best when it's gravity fed. There's another sign on the front of the barrel now, warning guests not to tip it. Our student parties were well known for impatient drunkards tipping the barrel once it got past halfway to increase the flow. They ended up with pints that were half yeast (we know - we cleared them away the next day) and presumably hangovers that were more than half bad! If we can keep the barrel still, we should be able to extract almost all its 72 pints in a drinkable state.

This morning we erected the gazebo, and I've just finished cooking up a stockpot full of our traditional chilli which we'll be serving with baked potatoes in the time-honoured style. That will now steep until around 8pm when I'll put the light under it again to get it fired up in time to eat. I've made it quite mild in deference to sensitive tastes, but we will also be deploying the world famous Blair's chilli sauces which Mary Sue brought over from Ottawa a couple of years ago. We have four varieties from the mild Jalapeno sauce to the almost inedible "Sudden Death" so all tastes are catered for :o)

See you on the other side!

A Day in the Lakes - Mark 2

Paul is only here for a week, and the main reason for his trip is to be here for our housewarming party. For much of the rest of the time he's going to be helping out around the house, either getting ready for the party, clearing up after it, or giving me a hand stripping out the study ready for replastering. So to try and make it a bit more of a holiday, we went up to the Lakes yesterday for the day.

First stop was Sefton, to see Anthony Gormley's "Another Place." We were lucky to get the chance to see this amazing work. It was due to move off Crosby beach in November last year having moved several times before, but now the local authority have accepted proposals for it to stay there permanently, thus allowing the artist's original vision to work itself out over the coming years as the figures become more affected by nature.

I'd heard about the figures years ago, naturally, and seeing them on TV I scoffed at the idea as being just another daft artist's attempt to do something different. I couldn't have been more unprepared for my reaction to actually seeing the iron men for myself. The 100 figures are spread out across the beach so that in any one direction you can only see a few of them. But the fact that, as you look around, you see more of them, they are all standing alone and all looking in the same direction, gives the already desolate place a heightened sense of loneliness mixed with steadfastness that I found profoundly moving.

Having completed our up-close look at Another Place, we set off for Cockermouth for the second event of the day: a tour of Jennings Brewery (which had been on Paul's list of things to do). Jennings is the oldest brewery in Cumbria, established in 1828, but is no longer an independent brewery as it was recently taken over by Marston's. The brewery tour started at 2pm and when we arrived at the souvenir shop at ten to two we were the first there. By 2pm though, a fair crowd of about a dozen of us had assembled and we set off round the brewery to see the mill, the mash tuns, the boiling coppers, the hop station (complete with hops) and the fermentation vessels (pictured). No matter how many times I hear the story of how beer is made it's still always fascinating. Each brewery makes their own slight tweaks to the standard process, whether it's the water they use, or the way they mix the grain.

The lesson for me this time round was that soft water areas make darker ales, whereas hard water tends to give a pale ale. So when Marston's from Burton on Trent - famous for their darker Pedigree bitter - took over, Jennings were able to extend their range of already excellent beers and move into the production of darker beers by "Burtonising" their water. Adding gypsum or epsom salts to harden the water and make it more like the water used in Burton.

I don't think I've ever been allowed to stick my head into a fermentation vat either, so that was a treat. We were warned not to do it with the first vessel as it was still early in the process and the atmosphere in the tank was almost 100% carbon dioxide, but the second one had been skimmed and although extremely pungent, it was at least safe.

The highlight of any brewery tour is the sampling, and on this score Jennings rated very highly indeed. They had six ales on tap for us to try, and we were allowed three half pints each. Even better, if anyone chose one and decided (before finishing it!) they didn't like it, then we were allowed to swap. So I ended up sampling the traditional Jennings Bitter, the seasonal ale - Tom Fool - which I didn't like, Cocker Hoop, a wonderfully fruity pale ale which was my definite favourite, and the Cumberland which has hops added to the barrel after brewing to give extra flavour.

Just on the off-chance, I enquired about the possibility of taking a barrel away with us. In my student days it was always a tradition to secure one or more firkins (9 gallons) for parties and it occurred to me it would be a bonus if we could do that again. I was told they do supply small quantities direct to the public, but you're supposed to order in advance. They checked the racks for us though, and found a barrel of Jennings bitter that had not been collected, so we were able to fetch the car to the brewery door and load up 72 pints of best Cumbrian ale with which to party on Saturday night.

The Big Match

We picked Nikki's brother up from the airport yesterday, whisked him home and gave him the 50c tour of the house and then dragged him out for a bit of retail therapy. It's important, when guests arrive from North America, to keep them on their feet for as long as possible to avoid narcolepsy setting in.

First stop was The Bar for breakfast, but they weren't open so we headed off for B&Q (a Home Depot equivalent for non-UK readers). We were looking for a few items for next week's work - rubble bags, extension cords, etc - but we also checked out power washers for giving the deck a blast before the party, and managed to find a replacement catch for the downstairs toilet door.

Next stop the local supermarket for a few groceries to tide us over until the weekend. Beer mainly. Having stopped at the supermarket it was only a short walk across the road back to The Bar which by now was open but, we learned, only do breakfasts on Sunday. So we settled for a bar snack before returning home and finally allowing Paul to get a couple of hours' kip before the evening festivities.

He'd expressed a desire to watch a football match in a proper English pub. Hard call - most of the pubs where football is shown can be a bit rough or, if they aren't, then there's not a very big football crowd and hence no atmosphere. In the end we played safe and chose The Southern, a place that used to be our local but to which we'd not been back since it changed hands last year and became an Irish theme pub. We needn't have worried. They'd installed a few more widescreen tellies, were showing the match - the European Champions League final between Liverpool and AC Milan - and seemed to be building up quite a large audience for it by the time we arrived shortly after 7pm.

I won't bore you with details of the match, but I should have accepted Paul's offer of a bet. I was a good night though, made even more entertaining by the arrival of the turn for the evening while the match was on. The band set up and tuned up during the match but the best part was when the Elvis impersonator arrived. If you were an Elvis impersonator what would your worst nightmare be? It happened right in front of us. As he walked past us the woman on the next table, who appeared to be nearing if not already past 60, leapt to her feet and accosted him. "Remember me? Years and years ago? The Boar's Head?" Elvis looked vacant for a split second, then recovered his persona. I expected him to say "Uh-huh," Elvis-style but no. In a broad Lancashire accent, he replied: "'Course I do, love, 'course I do."

Thangyewverymuch.

Quiz Night

One of the great things about living round here is the neighbours, and this is brought home to us regularly when the doorbell rings unexpectedly and someone's on the front step inviting us to something new. This has never happened to me in my entire life before I lived here, and the sense of community it brings continues to surprise and delight.

It's not always the doorbell that brings an invite. I was out picking the girls up last Saturday when Nikki called to say she'd been stopped in the street by a neighbour who'd invited us all to go along with them to a "pub quiz" style evening in Droylsden. I say "style" because it wasn't held in a pub, but in a social centre at the back of an am-dram theatre. Even after seven years' peripheral involvement with Chorlton Players I'm still surprised by how popular amateur dramatics is. Wherever we go we seem to trip over someone else who's involved in one way or another.

Anyway, I digress. We didn't know what to expect, as our neighbour hadn't said anything except we'd be fed for the price of the ticket, and we were leaving between 7 and 7.30. So off we set across the road at 7.30. Arrangements were a little vague, as one set of neighbours had to call in at a relative's house on the way, and the neighbour who'd invited us had to collect her son from the centre of town. We elected to follow her, which proved to be the wrong choice as her driving was more than a little erratic. We were sat in our car with the engine running waiting for her to start off when a car came tearing past. It was several seconds before we realised it was her car, by which time she was already turning right at the end of our road.

I took off after her, and within a very few minutes it became obvious that she was not used to being followed. She'd stop dead in front of us without signalling while she retrieved something from the glove box; turn right across oncoming traffic, leaving us stranded; accelerate through amber lights leaving me to risk penalty points by running some very dodgy amber (not red, honest officer) lights; and once, memorably, turned right against a No Right Turn sign in the centre of Manchester, which I totally refused to copy.

Against all the odds (we had no idea where we were going) I managed on each occasion to catch up with her and eventually, just short of eight o'clock, we pulled into a scabby looking car park next to a run-down theatre building near the centre of Droylsden. Our neighbour, with another neighbour and her son in tow, set off around the building and down a narrow passageway. Just as I was beginning to think we were all about to be turned into pies, she opened an innocuous looking door at the back of the building to reveal a newly-refurbished social club which was already almost full of people.

It had a private bar at one end, a mirrored wall at the other and a series of plushly upholstered seats all around the walls. Roughly in the centre of the room, a DJ's station was already occupied with the quizmaster for the evening. He was selling tickets, which we bought along with some drinks, and took four of the last eight remaining seats.

The quiz started at 9pm, breaking halfway through for hot pot (or cheese pie for the veggies), which arrived in the largest bowl I've ever seen. Very tasty it was too. For a group of four supposedly intelligent people we didn't do all that well with the quiz, ending up with 5 points fewer than the team in third place, but it was a fun night. It became even funnier when the answers were read out. We got as far as question 5: "Which actress wore the same coat in all her films" to which the answer was Lassie. Just as the quizmaster was moving on to the answer for question 6, a very theatrical lady at the back shouted out: "Excuse me? Excuse me?! Some people are making so much noise that we can't hear the answers to the questions. Could you tell me please, what was the answer to Lassie?"

LOL. Err...Lassie was the answer.

One day at a time...

Party preparations started in earnest today. Well, to be honest, today's preparations were really all about cleaning up in readiness for Nikki's brother arriving tomorrow. I'm knackered now. Hope he appreciates it ;o)

When we moved in, I bagsied a corner of the dining room to store all the tools I knew I'd be using during the extensive renovations. Most of them are still in their plastic crates, so today was a day for restacking them where the boiler used to be to free up some space in the dining room for the party cheeseboard.

When I wasn't cleaning, or scrubbing, or hoovering, or mopping, or carrying (or drinking tea), or stacking things in the attic room (I'm sure that ceiling's going to give way eventually), or shaving off the bottom of the spare room door to allow for the new carpet, I was assembling furniture. The missing piece of our spare room suite - the 4+2 chest of drawers - arrived as promised this afternoon. The final piece in the jigsaw of the room that Paul will be staying in for the next week.

In my long (30 year+) experience of flat-pack furniture, I have to say this is the best I have ever seen. Solid wood, very high manufacturing quality, excellent design and assembly is a doddle. It's the Pickwick range from Julian Bowen.

We chose two small bedside tables (which fit snugly either side of this queen-sized bed - more by luck than judgement it has to be said); the aforementioned chest; and a short wardrobe. Normally flat-pack wardrobes are the devil's work and nigh-on impossible to put together without one door ending up higher than the other. In this case everything went together beautifully, and the honey pine finish complements the rooms colours perfectly.

This room is only 10x8, with a corner missing where the stair well is, so finding furniture to fit without the room feeling like a broom cupboard was a challenge - one that Nikki rose to brilliantly as always. Since Julian Bowen don't sell to the public, we bought from Discount Furniture Direct. Admittedly their service was not without problems, but the main thing is that as soon as they discovered the chest of drawers had gone walkabout from their warehouse, they ordered a replacement right away and despatched it as soon as it arrived. Things can always go wrong - it's how the problems are handled that counts in the end, and they were polite, helpful and efficient. I wouldn't have any qualms about ordering from them again.

...but the study lingers on

As does the "nothing is ever simple" theme from Friday. Of these two windows in my side of the study, only the right-hand one ever opened. When they came to remove the left-hand sashes it became clear why. Both frames were completely rotten. If they hadn't been painted shut they would have fallen out long ago. Someone had made a bodge job of filling the rotten parts and painting over it, but they were beyond redemption.

The firm doing the windows this time round don't have access to a joiner who can offer a quick turn-around on new frames. The elder lad admitted he'd only been with them 6 weeks and his previous firm could have had them ready in a day (it actually only takes a professional joinery firm half an hour to knock up a window, armed with the correct measurements), but this place can't get hold of them until late Friday. With the Bank Holiday coming up this means the new ones won't be fitted until next Tuesday - after our housewarming.

The two guys took the rest of the day to replace both sills on the window above, and refurbish the right-hand sashes. Even working until 7pm they didn't even finish that one properly, so we've been left with the left panes boarded up, and the right panes tacked in place with screws. We'll have to cover them in sheets or something for party night. I hope it doesn't rain - there's gaps in the boards!

By contrast the carpet fitters who came today to fit the spare room carpet were efficiency personified.

They'd been booked for 12 noon, and the doorbell rang at 12 on the dot. I'd prepared the room by removing every stick of furniture, taking the door off and making sure there were no creaky floorboards, and the fitters repaid my preparation by completing the fit in 25 minutes.

"I wish every room was as easy as that," one of them remarked. I wanted to tell him I wished every fitter was as competent as them, but the window guys were in the other room.

The Bathroom is finished

So finally, after 9 weeks, I can bring you the photos of the bathroom in all its finished glory. I fitted the mirror and shelf yesterday which means the only outstanding item we want is a small shelving unit so we have somewhere for all those bathing and showering knick-knacks, shaving supplies and other toiletries.

Now that we're at the end of the first major refurbishment in our new home, what went well and what would we do differently if we were starting over?

The Good
We love the colour. Colours I should say, because the blue walls, the crisp white suite and the calm cool grey of the floor and shower all give the room a really classy look. We toyed with blue towels but in the end Nikki decided she preferred more white. Our old grey towels go well too, so we have them as a backup or a set for guests.

We love the freestanding chrome pieces. I didn't even know these existed until recently but they really add something to the overall look. The lights too, nestling in the clean white ceiling, look fab. And the layout of the room is exactly how we planned it and works really well. Finally the suite itself is just what we'd hoped for. It looks good, it's practical and it's actually enjoyable to use if I can say that about a sink and a toilet!

The Bad
Not bad, exactly, but we both agree it would have been nicer to have the yellow patterned glass in both bottom *and* top panes of the sash windows instead of choosing the natural coloured glass in the top. We had the opportunity, but didn't take it. The glass we chose has an obfuscation (privacy) factor of something like 3, whereas the yellow glass is 7, but that's not the main reason. It's more that the yellow glass casts a lovely warm glow into the room and this would have been even more apparent with more of it.

We should have taken steps to protect the rest of the house from the "fallout" - the building dust that got absolutely everywhere that first week, and in some places still hasn't been cleaned up properly. Thank God we didn't have carpet down anywhere - I don't think we'd ever have got it clean and even trying would have cost us a fortune.

We didn't specify how we wanted the extractor fan wired, so by the time we realised it had been wired up to the main lights it was too late to change it. I would have preferred it on a separate switch. As it is, if we need the ventilation we now have to have the lights on, and if we need the lights on we have to have the fan going. And we could have got away with two fewer lights in the main area. We have eight in the main body of the room whereas six would have been plenty, especially since there are two more in the shower enclosure.

I should have saved the jellyfish light switch and mailed it to Don.

The Ugly
I should have checked the size of that shower enclosure. I berated the fitters for not doing that, and it *was* their job, but I read that warning notice too, and I could have measured it any evening after the enclosure was built (i.e. after the 3rd or 4th day). The whole shower door assembly could then have been sent back unopened, and exchanged for one the right size (and the right handing) before fitting started. It would have saved us three weeks hassle.

So there are a few minor things we would change with the finished article and a few things we would do differently to get to it, but really we are very happy. The door remains to be painted, but this is part of a separate project - I need to paint *all* the doors on the first floor - which won't happen until after the study and kitchen are done. At least one of our friends has said we now have her "dream bathroom" and I can easily relate to that, because it's our dream bathroom too. Yes, it cost us more than we expected - we're about 10% beyond our revised budget which itself was 50% larger than the budget we started with - but we were determined not to compromise. If it means the rest of the house has to go slower, so be it. The finished article is worth every penny and we'll have forgotten the cost long before we tire of using it. I've uploaded a full set of "after" shots to my Flickr bathroom project set.

Nothing's ever simple

I should make that my new motto. It certainly means more to me than the real family motto (which, in case you were wondering is "nil nisi cruce") which I learnt as a boy meant "depend only in the cross" but which more recent Internet-based research translates as "nothing unless by the cross." What does that mean then? Presumably something about doing your Christian duty.

Whereas "nothing's ever simple" sums up virtually my entire life. Especially that part of it concerned with home improvements.

We've had the window men here the last two days. That's window *men* which differentiates them from window *man* who did the bathroom and toilet windows. Back in the days when we had a bathroom and toilet. Now, as you know, we have a bathroom *with* a toilet. And some nice new windows.

We like to spread the joy around though, so for the front (aka "spare") bedroom and the study windows we're trying out another firm. Two days for four windows was their original estimate. Since there's two of 'em I thought this was a fair go. Might stretch into Monday, the boss man said, on account of we need three out of four sills replacing too.

When work started on Thursday the estimate was blown out of the water almost immediately, as it took one guy all morning and the beginning of the afternoon to replace one sill. Meanwhile, his mate was stripping the windows. Come the end of the day they had to put all four panes back (admittedly a lot cleaner) so we didn't have a gale blowing through the house all night.

They'd forgotten we needed three panes reglazing too. Two on account of cracks and one bullet hole. Well, we called it a bullet hole for dramatic effect. And because it looked like a bullet hole. Really it was probably just a piece of low-flying grit. The kind of grit that hits an upper-storey window hard enough to leave a hole that looks like it was made by a bullet. I really don't know what went on here before we moved in. Anyway, they had to go out halfway through the day to get the glass, so that slowed things down too.

Yesterday was no better. When he came to reglaze the bullet-ridden pane, the younger of the two guys discovered rain had been getting down behind the putty and the entire bottom section was rotten. Not just soft - the wood had turned almost to powder. So he had to cut out that section and make an insert, fill, sand, paint, etc. It all takes time. And that's how a two-day job turned into a three- or possibly even four-day job. They'll be back on Monday, but since they've only just started on the second two windows, and *both* of those need sill replacements, I can't see this being finished before Tuesday.

To the extent that you can trust online translators like InterTran, my new motto would be rendered as "nusquam est umquam simplex" which sounds suitably whacky. Anything with umquam in it is OK by me. I'll have a gin and tonic please and put a dash of umquam in it.

Friday Five

I'm quite getting into this Friday Five business, especially as I don't have to think up (or find) the questions for meself! Thanks Di! ;o) This week, as it happens, my answers are frighteningly similar to yours of last Friday.

1. What do you obsess about?
Absolutely hate being late for anything. When I was growing up, as a family we were always first to arrive and last to leave at any gatherings. Nikki and I had to go and pay the balance on our new carpets on Wednesday evening prior to the first one being fitted this coming Monday. Had to be there by six to catch them before they closed. Traffic was a nightmare! We ended up walking in the shop at 5.55pm and you could see their faces: "Bloody customer five minutes before closing?" They brightened up when they saw we'd come to give them money though!

If I have a lot to do work-wise I tend to be fairly bad at prioritising too. I try to make progress on everything all at once and then stress out because I'm not getting anywhere with anything.

2. What do you do for a living?
IT Professional, solutions architect (i.e. I design the whole solution - hardware, network, systems and applications software)

3. Where do you call home?
Manchester, UK (originally from Nottingham)

4. Have you lived up to your parents' expectations?
Exceeded them financially and career-wise, I think. Probably not lived up to them so well in other areas.

5. Are we more likely to find you in a coffee bar or a nightclub?
Of those two options, coffee bar definitely. I think I've only been in a nightclub three times in my life and I hated it every time. I prefer the pub actually, or beer garden, but best is drinking at friends' houses during parties or small soirees.

The five minute chunk

Have you noticed how everyone tends to divide time into five minute chunks? No? When someone asks you how long it will take to, say, walk from the station to your office, or any other walk you're familiar with, what do you tell them? Ten minutes? Fifteen? What if it's a walk you do every day, and you *know* it takes almost exactly 12 minutes?

You don't say "12 minutes" do you? Because no-one is that precise. If you did, they'd look at you all peculiar and say something like "give or take 22 seconds." They wouldn't say it, but they'd definitely imply you were being a bit anal, or at least overly analytical, just for knowing the exact time it takes to walk a walk you're intimately acquainted with. No, you don't say 12 minutes. You might think "well hey, I walk a bit slow, so he might do it in ten, or he might hit a bad run of traffic lights and not be able to cross, so it might be 13 or 14" and so you round up. You don't want him to rely on an underestimate and end up being late. You tell him it's a fifteen minute walk. If you want to bracket it, you'll do this in five minute chunks too. "It's about a fifteen minute walk, twenty tops."

It's nothing like twenty minutes! If he was recovering from a broken ankle he could do it in 16. But those minutes between 15 and 20 are lost to you. Too precise.

I really should stop thinking about this stuff.

The back of beyond

Our new bathroom mirror - the final piece in the jigsaw - arrived on Monday. Or it would have done if anyone had been here to take delivery.

Amtrak left a little note. We tried. We'll be back tomorrow. So we pinned our notice on the front door asking them to try over the road, since I was due to spend the day in London yesterday. Unfortunately our neighbours were out too, so we got home to another little note. We tried. That was your last chance. Come to the depot in the next two days or you'll never see the mirror again.

I took Nikki to work early this morning so I could hunt down the Amtrak depot. Have you noticed how these places are always stuck right at the back of an industrial estate somewhere you've never been before. And once you've gone, you never want to go again. And everyone uses a different shipping company, so the fact that you've managed to find your way to one depot will be absolutely no use whatever the next time you miss a parcel delivery. I've tracked down the distribution centres for Parcelforce, DHL, FedEx and Red Star, but this was the first Amtrak trek I'd ever been on.

I found them eventually. Right at the back of the industrial estate, as expected. Worse. On one of those roads called "Avenue Close" or something, where there are two possibilities (the Close traverses the entry road) so you don't know whether to go right or left. And you (well, I) always choose the wrong one first.

Lift your arms!

It never fails to surprise me how linear people can be. Like when they come up against a door marked "Pull" they'll always pull it, even if it's lodged ajar so it's clear it swings both ways, and it would be much easier to push it. Or encountering double doors where there's a group of people struggling to get through just one side, they'll never think of opening the other side to allow everyone through more quickly.

I was reminded of this on the 7.05 to Euston this morning (yes! Again!) when a young guy embarked at Stockport and tried to sit down next to me. He was hampered both by his large flight-case-style briefcase and the fact that the arm of the chair on the aisle side was in the down position. He contorted himself to climb over the arm, repeated the manoeuvre in reverse to stow his coat in the overhead rack and then again to sit back down.

What do you say? It's easy to come over a bit patronising in these circumstances, but how can he not have noticed that the arms are hinged, and can be lifted back into an upright position, allowing unfettered ingress and egress.

I took pity on him. "That's a lot easier if you lift the arm up," I said in my most earnest and non-patronising voice. I think he appreciated my help. Especially when, a couple of minutes later, I had to ask him to stand up again so I could get to the shop for a spot of breakfast.

Horse Trials force friends off the road

Well, off one road and onto another, as it happens.

We headed off to Chesterfield today to spend the day with friends intended to start (after coffee) with a walk round Chatsworth gardens. We'd had to abandon our attempt a few months back when Helena's brother in law was taken ill, so we'd planned to give it another go today. Looks like we're jinxed though. As we drove past the gate we saw the signs for Horse Trials and the queue to get in was pretty bad.

When we'd all gathered at Phil & Vicky's we discussed options and decided to head off in a different direction - to Matlock. Most of us hadn't been there for a few years and at least one had never been. We suffered the occasional shower and also enjoyed some sunny spells, but when you're in the company of good friends the weather is mostly irrelevant and we had a great time wandering up and down the high street, buying some trinkets, clothes, chips and ice cream.

Nikki & I had a slight disappointment when we arrived at the top end of the high street though. We'd been hotly anticipating having another look around our favourite fantasy art shop (where we had bought "Marina" - the mermaid who now decorates the wall of our new bathroom) and maybe buying another small piece to celebrate our new home. As we approached the corner where the art shop used to be, we could clearly see it wasn't an art shop any more. It's been taken over by a fudge company. Hmph! Guess we'll have to stick to the Lakes when we want to buy art!

No day with mates is complete without a few beers, so we stopped off on the way back to Chesterfield at the Kelstedge Inn. This is a fabulous little place more or less equidistant from Chesterfield and Matlock and the landlady made us feel very welcome (probably because we were her only customers at that time on a Saturday afternoon!). The only thing lacking was a fire in the grate, but the rest of the establishment could have stepped right out of a book on English tradition. Comfy chairs, polished wooden tables, horse brasses, china teapots, watercolours of local views and fine traditional English real ale.

If we hadn't had two drivers with us we would have been happy to stay there all day, but after a couple of rounds we opted to head back to Chesterfield and walk to Phil's local - the Royal Oak - for a couple more before dinner. Vicky laid on an impressive spread for us - cold Greek starters followed by an excellent moussaka, with red berries and cream for afters. Faaaaabulous. Given the choice, Nikki & I would always go for eating in with friends rather than eating out. It's always more intimate, easier to talk, more relaxed, and at the end of the meal you don't have very far to walk! There's a lot of pleasure in cooking for friends, and similarly in eating something that someone else has prepared. Doesn't really matter what it is, everyone has their own way of cooking it and the variety is definitely the spice of life!

After the meal we all gathered round the telly for coffee and to watch the Eurovision results, but it had been a mildly active day topped off with several pints, glasses of wine and a large meal, so as usual I couldn't keep my eyes open so we headed off to bed just before midnight.

We skipped breakfast this morning, needing to get to Mum's early to fill her in with all the news and get away early - we have a ton of preparations to get through for the party and Nikki's brother Paul's visit the week after next - but we did stay for a coffee or two and shared our bathroom refit photos with everyone. Some people bore their friends with holiday photos - we do it with home improvements ;o)

Friday Five

1. Do you gamble?
Life's a gamble, isn't it? But let's not get too philosophical on what's intended to be a bit of end-of-week fun. Yes, I buy lottery tickets occasionally. I've bet on the Grand National once. I play the odd fruit machine (very rarely nowadays - more when I was younger).

2. Have you ever rode a horse?
No, only a donkey on the beach, and up the path to the Acropolis at Lindos.

3. Do you drink alcohol?
Yes, regularly. In the home and in the pub.

4. What is your favorite Mexican food?
Nachos. (It's chilli really, but with nachos you get a bit of chilli and a bit of lots of other yummy stuff)

5. Friday fill-in:
On Saturday, I plan to ____.
Visit our mates Phil & Vicky in Chesterfield, along with several other of my old school friends. Go for a walk around Chatsworth gardens (weather permitting), stop off on the way home for a few beers and then dine in on their most excellent home cooking and spend the evening relaxing, chatting, and maybe even having a giggle at Eurovision.

Moving to Movable

We moved over to Movable Type on TV Scoop last week. The interface is almost identical to TypePad and the whole process of posting is a lot faster, but there are just enough differences to catch you out. I've been using TP for a year, so I expect it'll be a while before I'm as familiar and comfortable with MT as I was with TP. For a start, it's not exactly wysiwyg. Like blogger, it's a strange mixture of wysiwyg and HTML. For instance, you don't have to put paragraph tags in - it will treat line breaks as paragraphs - but whenever you do bold, or emphasis, or hyperlinks, they appear as HTML.

The post categories are handled much more slickly - especially for multiple categories where a checklist is presented unlike TP which opened up the list in a separate window and required Ctrl+Click to be used to select the items.

Slightly less slick is the handling of images. These have to be uploaded as "files" and then the option taken to "show me the HTML." This creates the basic HTML to embed the picture in the post, but doesn't insert any style code, so to achieve the normal justification of the picture to the left or right of the post, and give it the correct margin, all has to be added later by hand. It's all a bit Heath Robinson compared to TP, but in the end it is a *lot* quicker.

But the biggest bonus for me is the ability to do timed posts. On TP this feature was restricted to editors, so as a lowly freelancer I could only publish posts in real time. Now (assuming I can find enough topics!) I can create my posts ahead of time and schedule them for publication any time in the future. This will be a huge benefit on those days where I'm travelling away, as I can prepare the posts the night before.

Overall the move to MT is seen as a positive thing and I think Scoop is one of the last Shiny blogs to make the move. TP was always slow and occasionally excruciatingly so. Sometimes (about three times in the last year) it even stopped altogether. Not really good enough for a professional site like TV Scoop.

Architect's Away Day 2

One of the other dinner conversations last Thursday was about erstwhile colleagues we'd both known but lost touch with in recent times. Learning of the fate of someone I'd worked very closely with for six years in the 80s brought home to me again how differently life turns out from what you might expect.

This is a recurring theme on my blog, but in this case the star player in the story is not me. It's a man who, when I first met him in 1982, appeared to walk on water. New into the operating system support team in July of that year, it was the first chance I'd had to meet some of the people who actually wrote the operating system. I'd been studying the code for several months (the entire OS code - referred to as "the Project Log" - was regularly released on microfiche the use of internal users to investigate and suggest fixes for errors) as part of my previous job. The experience stood me in good stead for my years in support. I knew my way around a small part of the OS and that was the part I started supporting.

But the guy at the heart of this story wasn't just the author of that small part. He was the leader of a team who at one time had responsibility for almost a third of the entire operating system. It seemed to me at that time that his intellect and knowledge were so far above mine that I was scarcely worthy to breathe the same air. It soon became apparent that he had an ego to match, and a reputation for not suffering fools gladly. You've heard the expression "not allowed to make the same mistake twice?" Well with this guy you were barely given scope to make the same mistake once. Growling, scowling and generally behaving like a bear with a sore head, most of the rest of the support team gave him a wide berth and avoided talking to him whenever they could.

Since he had ultimate responsibility for all of the code I was interested in (and experienced with), I didn't have the luxury of avoiding him. So I figured all I could do was play it with a straight bat - admit that I was inexperienced, show a willingness to learn, make sure I *did* learn, do the best I could before seeking his help with a problem, and try to make sure that whenever I did go to him for help it wasn't with a trivial problem that I should have been able to sort out for myself.

Armed with little more than that approach and a propensity for fast learning, we built up a grudging respect for each other over those six years. Although I wouldn't go so far as to say we ever became friends, we could at least claim to have developed a good working relationship which included trust, appreciation of our abilities...etc.

In the interim period between me leaving the support team and him leaving the development team, we'd lost touch. I was aware that he'd spent some time in our ecommerce unit and then been moved sideways into the supply units - the people who handle the best-price acquisition of all the hardware and software that we put into our solutions. I guessed that his abrasive style had not gone down too well with a succession of managers. This may even have led to him being passed over for promotion and/or receiving a succession of bad pay reviews. Either that or he'd made a conscious decision to move to less challenging work. This was all supposition on my part but it's certainly true that as well as providing a wealth of opportunities, big companies can be unforgiving places if your face doesn't fit or you become a victim of internal politics. It can happen to anyone.

But I was surprised to learn that he'd left the company and even more surprised when I found out what he was doing now. Driving trucks. Long distance.

Don't get me wrong, there's absolutely nothing wrong with being a truck driver. It's another of those essential jobs without which we'd all be dead. But it's not the kind of job you expect someone who is capable of writing mainframe operating system software to end up doing.

There was one more surprise in store. My later reaction to the news. I started envying him. The open road, the lack of stress, feeling in control. I imagined him translating his legendary attention to detail into his new role. Making sure his rig was always in tip-top condition, his load balanced and his tarps tied down. Tyres checked, oil topped up, tachograph maintained and his driving hours exactly meeting regulations. And his idiosyncratic interpersonal skills not getting in the way of making a decent living. And, probably best of all I suspect, no damned office politics giving him sleepless nights. Good luck to you mate. Keep on truckin'

Architect's Away Day

The architect's away day the week before last was a great opportunity to catch up with people I haven't had chance to speak to for ages. Over dinner, I was discussing old colleagues with one guy I've worked with for over 25 years. The conversation ebbed and flowed, as it does, lubricated by the plentiful supply of wine. One of the things I really enjoy about having worked for the same firm all my life is the relationships and friendships I've built up over that time.

We agreed that one of the main reasons we've stayed with the same company for so long is the people we've had the chance to work with over the years. For the most part, the work has remained varied and interesting during that time, although there have been peaks and troughs. But the people - their enthusiasm, wit and integrity; the sense of camaraderie, almost of family - the chance to continue working with them on a variety of different projects and challenges has led to many of us staying with the company for long periods, often whole careers. This is unusual today, especially in our industry, where people are almost expected to change jobs every few years to get a rounded experience. But over the last thirty years I've worked on mainframes, midrange systems, office systems and PCs. I've developed operating systems, applications and solutions. I've been a designer, implementer, tester, manager, integrator, support leader. I've done recruitment, marketing, worked on sales campaigns and stood on stand at commercial shows. So I've never felt the need to leave to gain more experience. It's all been here for me.

There is a downside though. Recruiting people with equivalent experience into senior roles is not possible unless an attractive salary is offered. A salary far in excess of what us long-serving types are on. And the way the company pay scales work, to pay such a salary forces the company to recruit into the highest grades of the technical career structure.

So we have an anomaly. 30-year veterans of the industry, who not only know the technologies but also the company inside out, have first-class networks of colleagues to draw on for help and can get the job done in half the time. These people on, let's call it grade 2, or 3 and earning £x,000 per year. And they're being asked to work with people recruited from outside the company, so no knowledge of process or information stores, no usable network of experience and (sad to say) all too often very rudimentary knowledge of the technical subject matter they have been recruited for (despite no doubt spinning a plausible yarn to the HR people and managers who interviewed them) and yet are on vastly inflated salaries (often 2x £x,000) and grades 4 or 5 - at the top of the tree.

Meanwhile the older experts are passed over for promotion in favour of these people on the grounds that if they've stuck around so long they will continue to put up with it whether they are promoted or not. It's a cynical attitude to the staff the company depends on most.

The first barbecue of the season

...is where the four of us - myself, Nikki, Natalie and Blythe - went last night, at Mick & Helen's. A "joint birthday" BBQ to celebrate Mick's and Annie's birthday. I prepared some chicken kebabs - a favourite barbie item of mine and one I haven't made since the last one at Annie's first Manchester flat, way back in the summer of 2000. Chicken goujons, shallots, red, yellow, and green peppers, mushrooms and small vine tomatoes, all assembled on a bamboo skewer. We took some burgers too, just in case we were feeling extra hungry, but we hadn't allowed for Helen's amazing catering.

She'd been cooking all day. Potatoes with garlic and mustard seed, avocado hummus, pine nut couscous, ultra-mega-garlic infused bread sauce, aubergine curry, chilli, and on and on. The dining table was full. The picnic table in the gazebo was full. And in between, Mick was loading three barbecues with charcoal and lighters as we arrived.

Opposite the barbies, a tall chimenea stood ready to ward off the expected chill of an early May evening. Unlike the one pictured here, Mick & Helen's is a heater only, not a grill. But once it was fired up, so were we - to get one of our own! I sat entranced as the flames and sparks shot out of the top of the chimney, and within minutes a radius of 6 feet around the stove was toasty warm. We're busy searching online even now, for the best combination of features and the best deal. But there's one proviso: we want it here for *our* party in three weeks' time!

With the barbies up to temperature I deployed four of our kebabs. We'd not eaten since we had a pastie about 2pm - apart from snacking on Helen's delectable nibbles since arriving! - so we were all more than ready to eat. Thirty minutes and almost as many turns of the skewers later, they were ready - and delicious! As soon as I removed them from the barbie their place was taken with chicken breasts soaked in BBQ sauce, and half a dozen burgers, so there was quite a wait before we could cook the second batch. By the time we were eating those dusk had very definitely arrived and we were glad of the chimenea.

We retired to Mick's studio bedroom so Lara and Natalie could compare guitar playing. This kind of event is when my regret at not learning an instrument is at its height. Sitting around in a quiet group, all mellowed out from the event, the food and the beer, I really would love to join in with an improvised jam session. There is a keyboard in Mick's eclectic collection of instruments, so maybe it's time to book those piano lessons at long last.

I just had to try this - and so will you

We helped our friend Annie move house yesterday evening. The first thing you think when you walk into her new place is: "Wow!" Then the next thing you think is: "Wow!!" I remember thinking Wow on at least six separate occasions as she showed us round. The place is huge. And I mean, HUGE. So pleased for her - after a succession of places that she *thought* were places where she could feel settled and make a home, but which turned out to be turkeys of one flavour or another (most of them, it has to be said, turkey flavoured), this finally looks like somewhere she'll be staying for a long time to come.

I hope so, cos I don't fancy moving all THAT junk again any time soon! (*joke!*)

Anyhow we had a blast moving her, the nine of us. Two at the new place organising where everything went, three at the old place deconstructing, bagging up and fetching downstairs, and four of us loading cars, driving between, unloading cars and driving back (repeat until finished). Got more-or-less the whole lot done in under two hours when Annie decided the rest could wait until today cos she'd had enough. Then it was back to the new place for beer, pizza and matey chats. What a great way to spend an evening. Good friends, good company, and the feeling that you've accomplished something to help a mate. Top stuff.

Oh, yes. That thing I just had to try? It's amazing the random stuff you find on tvor's journal, but this is randomer than most:

Which random phallic object are you?
Quiz by Andrea.

Friday Five

Borrowed shamelessly from my mate tvor's livejournal from last week (because it was too late for me to do it last Friday by the time I spotted it...and now she's done another one so I'm irredeemably a week behind. Doh!)

1. Turn your head to the right -- what do you see?
An empty wall, and a floor littered with (one...two...three) five plastic bags. We've been clearing the study out in advance of having it replastered, and we only got half way. Finishing the job is a task for this weekend.

2. Stand-up -- do you like how tall you are?
Yes. Although I never realise how tall I am compared to other people. I think my body image is about 4 inches shorter than my actual height.

3. Do you believe in heaven or hell?
Being a spiritualist I'd have to say yes, but like tvor I believe the biblical version is a poor interpretation.

4. What is your favorite piece of jewelry?
The gold signet ring Nikki bought me on our trip to Rhodes in 2004. It is handmade to a design exclusive to the goldsmith where we bought it, and tells the story of the island in pictures.

5. What is the last thing you took from someone else?
A receipt from the taxi driver who drove me home from Piccadilly. I've been to Sheffield today.

My pointless existence

I got up at the usual time today. I make a point of mentioning that because ordinarily, when it's a day for travelling to London, I have to be up at stupid o'clock (like 4 or 5am) to catch an early train. Today, the meeting I headed for was at 3pm, with a small pre-meeting, so there was no rush. I caught the 7.05am to Euston and so had a leisurely start.

The 7.05 is an express. Direct to Euston without stopping (except at Stockport of course, for historical reasons) it takes about 2 hours and because it is so quick it's usually packed out. I was lucky to get a table.

But the journey was one of those pointless business trips that any sensible person would assume no longer happens in the 21st century. I got up, washed, dressed, waited for the taxi, arrived at the station, bought a ticket, caught the train, then the tube, walked past the Houses of Parliament, and ultimately arrived at the office. It was around 10am. As usual when I turn up somewhere, I was roped into another meeting - this time to discuss how we're going to manage the series of customer workshops that need to take place once we've signed the contract tomorrow. Nothing I couldn't have done on the phone. When three o'clock rolled around we filed into the review meeting. Part of the business process, this meeting confirms that the contract is "good business" and that there are no problems with the solution, plan, resourcing or commercial agreement.

My job is to state that the solution is deliverable and that the plans have been underwritten by the development units. So I expected that sometime around 3.30 I would be asked that question, and I would say "Yes." That's all. Me saying "yes" was the sole purpose of my trip today. I felt like the man from del Monte. But I have to say it in the room. Like some archaic scene from a Dickensian workhouse, I have to be there. In person. Because that's the way it works. In fact, to discourage (as in, totally prevent) anyone dialling in to the meeting, the organisers don't provide a voice conference number.

Having said yes, I further expected to have to sit there throughout the rest of the meeting listening to the ebb and flow of the debate about whether we can sign the contract or not. People with egos the size of planets trying to score points off each other and prove they're more on the ball than the next person. And when it's all over, I would pack up my laptop and make the return journey.

It didn't quite turn out like that. Since the solution hasn't changed since the last approval review, there were no burning questions about it, so the board member chairing the meeting never looked in my direction, never asked a question and never once mentioned the solution (except to ask the development unit director whether we'd done stuff like this before). So I never got to say "yes." In fact, I never opened my mouth.

What's more, far from dragging on for an hour and a half, the meeting was over in 15 minutes. Now you might think that that's a bonus, but it just made me feel even more annoyed. I left the building at 3.35 and made it to Euston in time for the 4.05 back to Piccadilly. I arrived home almost exactly 12 hours after leaving. A 12 hour day to attend a meeting and not say a single word, just because that's what the process says we have to do. You might say the process is broken. I couldn't possibly comment.

Shower: The Final Frontier

Having consulted the manufacturers, our plumber discovered the probable source of the fault. He'd installed the valve the wrong way up. This makes his track record of handed installations 100%. That's 100% *wrong* you understand. He plumbed the bath's hot water supply to the cold tap. And vice versa, naturally. He plumbed the wash basin's hot water supply to the cold tap. And vice versa. He installed the shower's mixer valve with the stop button on the left. When he came to fix the temperature the button mysteriously moved to the right. Now, finally, his Dad arrived to fix the rain-head/shower-head valve and that too migrated inexplicably from left to right.

It's lucky there's only one pipe leading to the toilet, or we'd probably be flushing with hot water!

Anyway, it's done. He was here about 20 minutes and the shower is now fully functional. We can switch from one output to the other, and the one we're not using shuts off. Revolutionary that, I think you'll agree.

I ordered the mirror online today too, so it shouldn't be long before I can share some photos of the real, final, done deal. And I can start writing about something else ;o)

Party on, dude!

The social scene here in our new place continues to go from strength to strength. Having started preparations last weekend for our housewarming party at the end of May, we had a surprise visitor last night while we were sitting quietly watching TV.

It was one of our neighbours calling to invite us across the road to make plans for the street party we're holding in June. Six of us turned up to the meeting, representing 4 houses in our part of the road. This will be the third time the street-party-cum-barbecue has been held and in fact last year's took place on the very day we came to view this house for the first time. As the man of the house took us on a guided tour of the rooms, his wife prepared salmon steaks for the barbecue that afternoon.

It was one of the things that sold the house to us, and it felt very natural to take part in the planning of this year's event. Manchester City Council offers small grants to help towards the cost of getting together with neighbours to foster a sense of community under the banner "Manchester Neighbours' Day" and we'll be applying for one of those. The only rule is that we can't spend grant money on alcohol, but as we're planning to have a bouncy castle for the kids and lots of bbq food and salads that won't be a problem!

The initial planning session went on until 11.30pm amidst much wine drinking and laughter. Our neighbours, as I've mentioned before, are a fantastic bunch. Really warm and friendly, and excellent company. We each came away with some simple actions to get the ball rolling, as well as embryonic plans for a community website (which I'd been independently thinking of doing anyway) to make it easier to pass information around the neighbourhood.