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.