1.18am, and I become vaguely aware of a house alarm blaring away in the distance.
Nikki: "Is that our alarm?"
I listen more carefully, in my sleep-befuddled state.
Me: "Don't think so. It *is* close though."
I get out of bed and plod over to the window. When I pull back the curtain I can see our alarm box flashing its blue light angrily.
Me: "Fuck! It IS ours!"
As I open the bedroom door and the internal alarm becomes clearly audible, several thoughts crowd my still-not-fully-awake mind.
Should I go back and get my baseball bat?
Should I turn the alarm off BEFORE I check downstairs, alerting any intruder to the fact there's someone awake?
Has someone noticed the appliances being delivered and decided it's a good time to go on the rob, while they're all still in boxes?
I quickly decide plenty of light and an aggressive demeanour is the best approach to scare the intruder away. I cancel the alarm, turn the lights on and start downstairs.
Halfway down, I hear a noise in the kitchen. Bloody hell. How have they got in without making a noise?
I reach the hall, turn all the downstairs lights on and march boldly into the kitchen with a no-nonsense face on and the most don't-mess-with-me posture I can muster. I come face to face with the intruder.
A young tortie-and-white kitten, cowering at the other end of the kitchen.
She utters a frightened miaow and scuttles under the nearest cupboard unit.
Then I remember the fitters have just the day before completed coring out a 15cm hole in the wall for the ducting. A hole that presumably, from the outside, looks like a cat flap.
I retrieve the keys for the patio door, prop the kitchen door in the doorway to prevent the kitten escaping into the rest of the house, open the outside door and persuade her to go and burgle someone else, by which time Nikki has come down to check that I'm alright. With around 16 gallons of adrenaline pumping around inside me, I decide going back to bed isn't an option, so we set the coffee maker going and settle down in the lounge for some (very) early morning telly.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Kitchen fit: Day 3
Appliance day! Well, the delivery of them anyway. And suddenly once again the house became an obstacle course with boxes everywhere.
Dishwasher, double oven, hob, sink, taps and fixings in the hall; washing machine and tumble drier in the kitchen, and the downdraft extractor already unpacked and stood in place so the fitters could marry up the outflow fitting with the position of the ducting (coring for which was completed, with much cursing and swearing at the quality of Victorian stop brick, this morning).
The rest of the day was taken up with cutting the cupboard to fit around our wall-mounted combi boiler. The cupboard went up and down more times than a fairground pony, largely due to the shape of the wall, which kept distorting the carcase during fitting. In the end drastic measures were necessary, in the form of a diagonal cut across one corner of the cupboard to relieve the stress. This will be invisible after painting, but it did make me wonder how the joiner would have coped with the problem if we'd chosen solid wood cabinets.
The rest of the day was taken up with cutting the cupboard to fit around our wall-mounted combi boiler. The cupboard went up and down more times than a fairground pony, largely due to the shape of the wall, which kept distorting the carcase during fitting. In the end drastic measures were necessary, in the form of a diagonal cut across one corner of the cupboard to relieve the stress. This will be invisible after painting, but it did make me wonder how the joiner would have coped with the problem if we'd chosen solid wood cabinets.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Kitchen fit: Day 2
Today was mainly about positioning the remaining cupboards and starting to hang the wall units.
Even without doors, the wall units took the kitchen another huge leap towards "looking right" and their consequential absence from the dining room meant a step away from it being such an obstacle course, since they were no longer blocking access to the kettle station and the cutlery drawer.
Visible progress was somewhat hampered by having to core out two walls to take the ducting for the downdraft extractor, which proved a slow and noisy task. So slow that our fitters decided to abandon the second hole halfway through, to give the drill time to cool down! Even so by clocking off time the kitchen, although still full of tools, ladders and boxes of fittings, was definitely taking shape.
Visible progress was somewhat hampered by having to core out two walls to take the ducting for the downdraft extractor, which proved a slow and noisy task. So slow that our fitters decided to abandon the second hole halfway through, to give the drill time to cool down! Even so by clocking off time the kitchen, although still full of tools, ladders and boxes of fittings, was definitely taking shape.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Kitchen fit: Day 1
And so finally, we come to the start of the actual fitting of the actual kitchen (actually). The project we started on July 9 and which has had more than its fair share of ups and downs already, is (hopefully) on its final up. Finally.
The two fitters - Mr Kitchen Guy himself and his mate - turned up at 9am as promised and got started right away. The units were delivered almost coincident with their arrival and pretty soon the kitchen was a storm of bubble wrap and tape as the wrappings came off and things started to move into place.
But it wasn't just the kitchen. Oh no. We had plastic-wrapped cupboards in the dining room, in the hall, and "cheeks" (the shaped side panels that fit alongside each cupboard) propped up against just about every wall.
Walking around the house suddenly became a bit of an obstacle course. Trip hazards, too, with coving and other long sections lying on the floor in front of the dining room door.
By close of play (4pm, without a lunch break - a solid day's work) we were beginning to get the merest hint of what the finished article will look like.
The two fitters - Mr Kitchen Guy himself and his mate - turned up at 9am as promised and got started right away. The units were delivered almost coincident with their arrival and pretty soon the kitchen was a storm of bubble wrap and tape as the wrappings came off and things started to move into place.
Walking around the house suddenly became a bit of an obstacle course. Trip hazards, too, with coving and other long sections lying on the floor in front of the dining room door.
By close of play (4pm, without a lunch break - a solid day's work) we were beginning to get the merest hint of what the finished article will look like.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Insurers have a laugh
Coincidentally I've just received renewal notices for the buildings and contents insurance on our place AND on my Mum's house, which is currently in the process of being emptied ready for sale, but isn't quite empty yet (by several tons).
Our monthly premium has crept up by a few pounds every year, which I put down to inflation, and increased charges owing to the scrotes who regularly scam money off the insurers, but this time round I noticed that - compared to my Mum's quote - our people don't show an annual charge. So I worked it out, and had to pick my jaw off the desk. Suddenly 5 years after we've moved here, we're paying over a thousand pounds a year for combined buildings and contents insurance.
Hang on, that can't be right. The bill for Mum's place is less than 400. OK, it's a smaller place and Nottingham isn't *quite* so bad for crime as Manchester, but even so that looks a bit ridiculous. Let's do a quick check on confused.com. See if they can redress the balance of all those irritating adverts they've subjected me to over the years. Hey look! They can!!
Five minutes on the Internet and I've saved us about £600 a year. Love it.
I'm sure you'll be able to predict what the original insurers said when I phoned to cancel. "Well, we could look at the underwriting - I'm sure we'll be able to do it cheaper." Yeah. Thanks. Maybe you should have thought of that before assuming I'd carry on letting you rip us off.
Our monthly premium has crept up by a few pounds every year, which I put down to inflation, and increased charges owing to the scrotes who regularly scam money off the insurers, but this time round I noticed that - compared to my Mum's quote - our people don't show an annual charge. So I worked it out, and had to pick my jaw off the desk. Suddenly 5 years after we've moved here, we're paying over a thousand pounds a year for combined buildings and contents insurance.
Hang on, that can't be right. The bill for Mum's place is less than 400. OK, it's a smaller place and Nottingham isn't *quite* so bad for crime as Manchester, but even so that looks a bit ridiculous. Let's do a quick check on confused.com. See if they can redress the balance of all those irritating adverts they've subjected me to over the years. Hey look! They can!!
Five minutes on the Internet and I've saved us about £600 a year. Love it.
I'm sure you'll be able to predict what the original insurers said when I phoned to cancel. "Well, we could look at the underwriting - I'm sure we'll be able to do it cheaper." Yeah. Thanks. Maybe you should have thought of that before assuming I'd carry on letting you rip us off.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
A-building we will go
But first, a-shopping. To somewhere I didn't even know existed: the Northern Computer Markets held at Bowlers every Saturday. How, you might ask, can any self-respecting geek live in Manchester for ten years and not know that was there? And you might ask. I don't have an answer. But I know it's there now :o)
Wandering round trying to stop the drool from soaking into my beard was hard enough. Then we smelled the bacon and egg baps. Then we looked around a bit more, worked out a buying strategy and started spending. A Gigabyte 3DMars case, power supply, a 22" LG LED monitor (just the one for now), a 2TB hard drive (Western Digital of course) 8GB of Kingston memory, BD rewriter, Gigabyte motherboard, i5 processor, Nvidia graphics card, card reader, wireless card, new keyboard and mouse (why not?) and we were done.
Back home on the double to start assembling and by about 4pm the machine was assembled, booted first time, and I was busy reinstalling software. Bloody brilliant.
The old machine, stripped of its disks (the 1TB to keep, the 250GB installed just long enough to suck its data off) is over there, pretending to be a door stop.
Wandering round trying to stop the drool from soaking into my beard was hard enough. Then we smelled the bacon and egg baps. Then we looked around a bit more, worked out a buying strategy and started spending. A Gigabyte 3DMars case, power supply, a 22" LG LED monitor (just the one for now), a 2TB hard drive (Western Digital of course) 8GB of Kingston memory, BD rewriter, Gigabyte motherboard, i5 processor, Nvidia graphics card, card reader, wireless card, new keyboard and mouse (why not?) and we were done.
Back home on the double to start assembling and by about 4pm the machine was assembled, booted first time, and I was busy reinstalling software. Bloody brilliant.
The old machine, stripped of its disks (the 1TB to keep, the 250GB installed just long enough to suck its data off) is over there, pretending to be a door stop.
Friday, September 16, 2011
No.1 Chinky Buffy
Diane's been in town unexpectedly this week, so tonight we headed into town for an almost ad-hoc get-together at Manchester's renowned No.1 Oriental Buffet. Or at least it was renowned last time I looked (2-3 years ago maybe). On this particular occasion, although the company was as usual excellent, the meal was a little under par. A bit predictable in choices and some of it not as hot as it could be. Maybe that's what gave me a gippy tummy the next day. Anyway fun was had, drink was quaffed and faces were stuffed.
Then later Annie came back with us and we sat for an hour or two speccing up a replacement for the deceased beased. The death of the old war horse was distinctly to be treated as an opportunity to be grasped, rather than a tragedy to be mourned. Truth be told there had been more grinding of teeth, muttering and swearing in its general direction in recent months (years) than praise and soft words. Slow, error-prone, noisy, slow, many of its application exhibiting less than normal behaviour, and slow.
So one requirement for its replacement stood out from the crowd: Not Slow.
I think an Intel Core i5 and 8GB of memory should be fast enough :o)
Then later Annie came back with us and we sat for an hour or two speccing up a replacement for the deceased beased. The death of the old war horse was distinctly to be treated as an opportunity to be grasped, rather than a tragedy to be mourned. Truth be told there had been more grinding of teeth, muttering and swearing in its general direction in recent months (years) than praise and soft words. Slow, error-prone, noisy, slow, many of its application exhibiting less than normal behaviour, and slow.
So one requirement for its replacement stood out from the crowd: Not Slow.
I think an Intel Core i5 and 8GB of memory should be fast enough :o)
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wake up, time to die
The line, for those who don't recognise it (are there any? lol) is from my favourite movie: Blade Runner.
It's posted in honour of my dear old Fujitsu-Siemens PC, which I've had since December 2004 and which didn't wake up this morning. Since I've used it pretty much every day, apart from holidays spent away from home, in almost seven years, its "not waking up" had happened before.
Usually it means a crash has occurred overnight for some reason, prior to the sleep kicking in. This time a warm reboot didn't fix the problem, and neither did a cold reboot, which is usually enough to clear down any hardware registers that have got their knickers in a knot. No, this was more than just a "not waking up." This was the Big Sleep.
Fingers crossed it's just something like the video card, and not a hard disk crash and the loss of all that lovely data. That lovely, unbacked up, data. Who'd have thought I'm a 33-year computer industry veteran who doesn't back up? There must be thousands of us.
It's posted in honour of my dear old Fujitsu-Siemens PC, which I've had since December 2004 and which didn't wake up this morning. Since I've used it pretty much every day, apart from holidays spent away from home, in almost seven years, its "not waking up" had happened before.
Usually it means a crash has occurred overnight for some reason, prior to the sleep kicking in. This time a warm reboot didn't fix the problem, and neither did a cold reboot, which is usually enough to clear down any hardware registers that have got their knickers in a knot. No, this was more than just a "not waking up." This was the Big Sleep.
Fingers crossed it's just something like the video card, and not a hard disk crash and the loss of all that lovely data. That lovely, unbacked up, data. Who'd have thought I'm a 33-year computer industry veteran who doesn't back up? There must be thousands of us.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Corporate bollockspeak
A quiet week on the kitchen front (silent, actually), so I thought I'd share some examples of talking bollocks that I found buried in a comments thread on one of the sites I read regularly.
Phrases that those attempting to climb the greasy pole litter their conversations with, in an attempt to sound knowledgeable, when in fact all they achieve is a demonstration of their scroteworthiness.
"Quantum leap"
Bandied about to mean a fundamental, radical change, but in reality an inconceivably small distance.
"Critical mass"
Clever manager types use this to mean the gathering together of sufficient resources (er, people) to complete a task in the optimum time. It's original meaning is the minimum quantity of something that is guaranteed to make it fly apart catastrophically.
All for now. Feel free to contribute.
Phrases that those attempting to climb the greasy pole litter their conversations with, in an attempt to sound knowledgeable, when in fact all they achieve is a demonstration of their scroteworthiness.
"Quantum leap"
Bandied about to mean a fundamental, radical change, but in reality an inconceivably small distance.
"Critical mass"
Clever manager types use this to mean the gathering together of sufficient resources (er, people) to complete a task in the optimum time. It's original meaning is the minimum quantity of something that is guaranteed to make it fly apart catastrophically.
All for now. Feel free to contribute.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The New Floor
Well, it might be totally devoid of anything remotely resembling a kitchen unit, but the new floor received its last two coats of sealer yesterday, and now has a deep, rich, satin sheen and a colour that - remarkably - is an almost perfect match for the oak staircase we had fitted back in March, as you can see:
Now we wait for a week, while the kitchen manufacturer catches up with the order, and the kitchen echoes loudly with every small noise inside or outside the house. We just know it's going to feel a LOT smaller once the units are in. We've had the whole space to ourselves since the beginning of July, but it'll be good to finally move out of the dining room!
Now we wait for a week, while the kitchen manufacturer catches up with the order, and the kitchen echoes loudly with every small noise inside or outside the house. We just know it's going to feel a LOT smaller once the units are in. We've had the whole space to ourselves since the beginning of July, but it'll be good to finally move out of the dining room!
Friday, September 09, 2011
Down tools. Oh... they weren't up.
My inner planner (Yes, I do have one. Yes, he's well buried) has sat slightly on the irritated side of the fence throughout this kitchen refurbishment business. My estimates for how long things should take, and when (and in what order) they should happen, suggested an optimum elapsed time of between 6 and 7 weeks for the whole job.
This perfect, shiny, back-to-back plan was thrown off kilter as soon as we left the blocks when the builder offered July 9th as a date when he could come and alter the chimney breast. So effectively, we've been forced to live out of the dining room for a month longer than *absolutely necessary*. In an ideal world. But, as is often brought home to us, it's not an ideal world, and most of the tradespeople who have come and gone during the works have commented that the elapsed time we ARE achieving is still pretty good. All things considered.
But, you know, when "living out of the dining room" means this:
...and this...
Then it all gets a bit old after a few weeks. Still, it's not all bad. At least we still had a kitchen sink until the start of this week. The start of a week that had been even more carefully planned than usual so that it dovetailed perfectly with the start of actual kitchen fitting on Monday, thus keeping to an absolute minimum the time when regular living is even more of an obstacle course.
Plans, as we've proved over and over again with this project, can change with a single phone call.
In this case, the phone call from the kitchen unit makers, to say they were very (very) sorry, but they wouldn't be able to deliver the units for fitting on Monday. One of their main joiners had broken his leg in a motorbike accident and they'd tried everything but they just couldn't honour the date. We've been pushed back a week. The knowledge that this is much more of a disruption for the Actual Kitchen Guy, since he now has to twiddle his thumbs for a week and then explain to all the customers he has booked in that their fitting will be delayed a week too, is no consolation. It doesn't make us feel better to know that other people are affected too.
No, there's nothing to be done apart from suck it up, and live out of the understairs cloakroom for another week. So you'll understand why, having been slightly on the irritated side of the fence, I'm now well into the middle of the irritated garden.
This perfect, shiny, back-to-back plan was thrown off kilter as soon as we left the blocks when the builder offered July 9th as a date when he could come and alter the chimney breast. So effectively, we've been forced to live out of the dining room for a month longer than *absolutely necessary*. In an ideal world. But, as is often brought home to us, it's not an ideal world, and most of the tradespeople who have come and gone during the works have commented that the elapsed time we ARE achieving is still pretty good. All things considered.
But, you know, when "living out of the dining room" means this:
...and this...
Plans, as we've proved over and over again with this project, can change with a single phone call.
In this case, the phone call from the kitchen unit makers, to say they were very (very) sorry, but they wouldn't be able to deliver the units for fitting on Monday. One of their main joiners had broken his leg in a motorbike accident and they'd tried everything but they just couldn't honour the date. We've been pushed back a week. The knowledge that this is much more of a disruption for the Actual Kitchen Guy, since he now has to twiddle his thumbs for a week and then explain to all the customers he has booked in that their fitting will be delayed a week too, is no consolation. It doesn't make us feel better to know that other people are affected too.
No, there's nothing to be done apart from suck it up, and live out of the understairs cloakroom for another week. So you'll understand why, having been slightly on the irritated side of the fence, I'm now well into the middle of the irritated garden.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Flooring: Day... um... 4
I've been studiously avoiding posting progress photos of the flooring because, well, I didn't take any. The last couple of days have looked pretty similar to the first except with gradually increasing floor area covered and decreasing piles of material and junk. So I thought I'd wait until it was all down.
So Day 2, Der Floormeister completed the laying of boards in the kitchen, and sheeted the hall. And put the doors back on.
Day 3, he floored the hall, fixed a minor problem with the hatch (the leading edge was standing a bit proud), and implemented the chosen hatch fixing method (secret screwing).
Today was sanding, and the first coat of sealer. Being a water based sealer the first coat inevitably raises the grain in the North American White Oak boards, so the final effect will be much smoother than this, but here's how it looked at the end of Day 4.
So Day 2, Der Floormeister completed the laying of boards in the kitchen, and sheeted the hall. And put the doors back on.
Day 3, he floored the hall, fixed a minor problem with the hatch (the leading edge was standing a bit proud), and implemented the chosen hatch fixing method (secret screwing).
Today was sanding, and the first coat of sealer. Being a water based sealer the first coat inevitably raises the grain in the North American White Oak boards, so the final effect will be much smoother than this, but here's how it looked at the end of Day 4.
Wednesday, September 07, 2011
Wednesday meme, because I say so
Stolen from Diane, this headlines as a "time wasting meme for a Sunday morning." It just happens to be a Wednesday today. Am I bothered?
1. What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now?
We don't keep any kind of soap in the bathtub. None of us use it. (The bathtub that is)
2. Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?
No.
3. Is there anything moldy in your refrigerator?
No. And there's nothing mouldy either.
4. Are there any dirty dishes in your sink?
We don't have a sink at the moment. Kitchen refit in progress.
5. What would you change about your living room?
I would have sealed the floor before laying the carpet, to stop the dust lines blowing up between the boards. And I would fit that cable tidy we bought 8 years ago, to tidy up the TV, PVR, PS3 and AV amplifier cables.
6. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
Dishwasher not fitted yet. See #4
7. Do you have a can of mushrooms in your pantry?
No. No pantry. See #4
8. White or wheat bread?
Multigrain.
9. What is on top of your refrigerator?
Spare shelves; large pyrex baking dish; large ice pack for the cold bag.
10. What color is your sofa?
Dark brown.
11. What color or design is on your shower curtain?
Don't have a shower curtain. The door to the shower enclosure is glass.
12. How many plants are in your home?
5
13. How many candles are in your home?
About a dozen (not counting tea-lights)
14. Is your bed made right now?
Yes.
15. If you have a coffee pot, what color is it?
Brushed stainless steel.
16. Electric or standard can opener?
Standard.
17. Comet or Soft Scrub?
I have no idea what you're talking about.
18. Is your closet organized?
I imagine so. I never go in there.
19. What color is the flashlight that you use the most?
Black and yellow.
20. What kinds of things are in your junk drawer?
Radiator and gas meter keys, bits of string, rubber bands, flyers from local takeaways, instruction books for kitchen appliances, popular recipes, unpopular recipes, recipes of unknown popularity, spare batteries, old pens, freezer clips, ...
21. Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?
Glass.
22. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
No.
23. If you have a garage, is it cluttered?
No garage.
24. Curtains or blinds?
Curtains.
25. How many pillows do you sleep with?
Two.
26. Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
No.
27. How many ceiling fans are in your home?
None.
28. How often do you vacuum?
When the dust/bits become noticeable.
29. Standard toothbrush or electric?
Standard.
30. What color is your toothbrush?
Blue & white.
31. Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
Yes.
32. What is in your oven right now?
Oven not yet fitted. See #4
33. Is your microwave clean or dirty?
Clean. And it's the only thing we have to cook on at the moment besides the slow cooker.
34. Is there anything under your bed?
No.
35. Chore you hate doing the most?
Ironing.
36. What retro items are in your home?
Wood burning stove in the study (never used), several items retrieved from Mum's in the process of being sorted/sold.
37. Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
Yes.
38. If you have a yard, who mows it?
Me. And being British, it's a garden. With a lawn. Whoever heard of "mowing the yard"?
39. Is there anything on your kitchen floor right now?
A stack of new oak flooring, the flooring man's tools and fixings, a door, quite a lot of sawdust.
40. How many mirrors are in your home?
Two in bathrooms (third bathroom yet to be kitted out), two on the study floor waiting to be hung.
41. Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home?
No. Emergency money lives in the bank.
42. What color are your walls?
Which ones? We currently have walls in the following colours:
Plaster; Natural hessian; White; "Gentle" (a shade of lilac); "Armagnac" (a shade of aubergine); Peach; Brown (can't remember the name); Olde English Gold; Willow Tree (pale shade of sage green).
43. Which rooms in your house have wallpaper?
None.
44. Do you have a peephole in your front door?
No. Some stained glass though.
45. Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
A small baseball bat. Oh, and the old Kalashnikov, of course, but everyone has one of those.
46. What does your home smell like right now?
Fly spray.
47. Fave candle scent?
Sandalwood.
48. What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
Mango chutney; branston pickle. Might be some old lime pickle in there at the back.
49. Who are in the pictures you displayed?
On here? In the house? We have a "family wall" with pics of, you know, family.
50. What color is your favorite Bible?
Well this will totally amaze my regular readers, but I don't have a favourite Bible. Or an unfavourite one come to that.
51. Do you have plenty of cabinet space in your kitchen?
Not at the moment (see #4). Once the refit is complete there'll be LOADS.
52. Do you own a stereo?
Not any more. See this.
53. How many TVs do you have?
Two.
54. How many house phones?
Two.
55. Do you have a housekeeper?
LOL.
56. What style do you decorate in?
The style of the 17th century master Emulsio Emplastro.
57. Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?
I prefer them to colours made of, say, plasma.
58. In case of fire, what are the items you would grab if you only could make one quick trip?
Wallet, keys, and anyone who was in the house. I don't think I could carry the aquarium, so I hope the end will be quick for the fish :o(
59. Do you know how to work your electrical box?
Of course.
60. What temperature in your home is most comfortable to you?
20° works for us.
1. What kind of soap is in your bathtub right now?
We don't keep any kind of soap in the bathtub. None of us use it. (The bathtub that is)
2. Do you have any watermelon in your refrigerator?
No.
3. Is there anything moldy in your refrigerator?
No. And there's nothing mouldy either.
4. Are there any dirty dishes in your sink?
We don't have a sink at the moment. Kitchen refit in progress.
5. What would you change about your living room?
I would have sealed the floor before laying the carpet, to stop the dust lines blowing up between the boards. And I would fit that cable tidy we bought 8 years ago, to tidy up the TV, PVR, PS3 and AV amplifier cables.
6. Are the dishes in your dishwasher clean or dirty?
Dishwasher not fitted yet. See #4
7. Do you have a can of mushrooms in your pantry?
No. No pantry. See #4
8. White or wheat bread?
Multigrain.
9. What is on top of your refrigerator?
Spare shelves; large pyrex baking dish; large ice pack for the cold bag.
10. What color is your sofa?
Dark brown.
11. What color or design is on your shower curtain?
Don't have a shower curtain. The door to the shower enclosure is glass.
12. How many plants are in your home?
5
13. How many candles are in your home?
About a dozen (not counting tea-lights)
14. Is your bed made right now?
Yes.
15. If you have a coffee pot, what color is it?
Brushed stainless steel.
16. Electric or standard can opener?
Standard.
17. Comet or Soft Scrub?
I have no idea what you're talking about.
18. Is your closet organized?
I imagine so. I never go in there.
19. What color is the flashlight that you use the most?
Black and yellow.
20. What kinds of things are in your junk drawer?
Radiator and gas meter keys, bits of string, rubber bands, flyers from local takeaways, instruction books for kitchen appliances, popular recipes, unpopular recipes, recipes of unknown popularity, spare batteries, old pens, freezer clips, ...
21. Do you drink out of glass or plastic most of the time at home?
Glass.
22. Do you have iced tea made in a pitcher right now?
No.
23. If you have a garage, is it cluttered?
No garage.
24. Curtains or blinds?
Curtains.
25. How many pillows do you sleep with?
Two.
26. Do you sleep with any lights on at night?
No.
27. How many ceiling fans are in your home?
None.
28. How often do you vacuum?
When the dust/bits become noticeable.
29. Standard toothbrush or electric?
Standard.
30. What color is your toothbrush?
Blue & white.
31. Do you have a welcome mat on your front porch?
Yes.
32. What is in your oven right now?
Oven not yet fitted. See #4
33. Is your microwave clean or dirty?
Clean. And it's the only thing we have to cook on at the moment besides the slow cooker.
34. Is there anything under your bed?
No.
35. Chore you hate doing the most?
Ironing.
36. What retro items are in your home?
Wood burning stove in the study (never used), several items retrieved from Mum's in the process of being sorted/sold.
37. Do you have a separate room that you use as an office?
Yes.
38. If you have a yard, who mows it?
Me. And being British, it's a garden. With a lawn. Whoever heard of "mowing the yard"?
39. Is there anything on your kitchen floor right now?
A stack of new oak flooring, the flooring man's tools and fixings, a door, quite a lot of sawdust.
40. How many mirrors are in your home?
Two in bathrooms (third bathroom yet to be kitted out), two on the study floor waiting to be hung.
41. Do you have any hidden emergency money around your home?
No. Emergency money lives in the bank.
42. What color are your walls?
Which ones? We currently have walls in the following colours:
Plaster; Natural hessian; White; "Gentle" (a shade of lilac); "Armagnac" (a shade of aubergine); Peach; Brown (can't remember the name); Olde English Gold; Willow Tree (pale shade of sage green).
43. Which rooms in your house have wallpaper?
None.
44. Do you have a peephole in your front door?
No. Some stained glass though.
45. Do you keep any kind of protection weapons in your home?
A small baseball bat. Oh, and the old Kalashnikov, of course, but everyone has one of those.
46. What does your home smell like right now?
Fly spray.
47. Fave candle scent?
Sandalwood.
48. What kind of pickles (if any) are in your refrigerator right now?
Mango chutney; branston pickle. Might be some old lime pickle in there at the back.
49. Who are in the pictures you displayed?
On here? In the house? We have a "family wall" with pics of, you know, family.
50. What color is your favorite Bible?
Well this will totally amaze my regular readers, but I don't have a favourite Bible. Or an unfavourite one come to that.
51. Do you have plenty of cabinet space in your kitchen?
Not at the moment (see #4). Once the refit is complete there'll be LOADS.
52. Do you own a stereo?
Not any more. See this.
53. How many TVs do you have?
Two.
54. How many house phones?
Two.
55. Do you have a housekeeper?
LOL.
56. What style do you decorate in?
The style of the 17th century master Emulsio Emplastro.
57. Do you like solid colors in furniture or prints?
I prefer them to colours made of, say, plasma.
58. In case of fire, what are the items you would grab if you only could make one quick trip?
Wallet, keys, and anyone who was in the house. I don't think I could carry the aquarium, so I hope the end will be quick for the fish :o(
59. Do you know how to work your electrical box?
Of course.
60. What temperature in your home is most comfortable to you?
20° works for us.
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Wasps
Three in the study again yesterday morning. One last week. Three the week before that. No sign of another nest around the house (such as memorably happened two years ago) as far as I can tell. But THIS morning we were inundated with the nasty buggers. I must have burned through a quarter of a can of fly spray, leaving 8 or 9 dead bodies littering the carpet, before I noticed that outside the windows dozens of them were crawling animatedly around, looking for a way in.
And finding it. By squeezing through the draft strip between the sashes. Time to start closing the curtains, and hope the consequent removal of the hypnotic lure of our electric lights burning into their dim hymenopteran brains will give us some respite from the daily invasion.
And finding it. By squeezing through the draft strip between the sashes. Time to start closing the curtains, and hope the consequent removal of the hypnotic lure of our electric lights burning into their dim hymenopteran brains will give us some respite from the daily invasion.
Monday, September 05, 2011
Flooring: Day 1
The penultimate process of kitchen refurbishment began today, as the kitchen (and hall) flooring began to be laid. First order of business: lay a wide enough strip to store all the remaining materials, thus ensuring they all only need to be moved and restacked once, and then prepare as much of the plywood sheeting that carries the oak boards as possible, to enable rapid floor laying on Day 2.
Progress was hampered by our desire to install a "hatch" - replacing the original - to allow access to the subfloor void without destroying sections of floor if and when new services need to be installed. And also by the scribing, removal, and cutting of any doors that happened to be in the way.
By the end of the afternoon, things were looking... um... different
Another side-effect of starting the floor laying process is, of course, the sudden lack of a kitchen sink. Yes, from now until the worktops are fitted in approximately two weeks' time and the sink can be installed and made waterproof, we'll be filling the kettle and the coffee maker from the understairs cloakroom sink, and washing up in the bath. What was that I was saying about things getting worse before they get better?
Progress was hampered by our desire to install a "hatch" - replacing the original - to allow access to the subfloor void without destroying sections of floor if and when new services need to be installed. And also by the scribing, removal, and cutting of any doors that happened to be in the way.
By the end of the afternoon, things were looking... um... different
Another side-effect of starting the floor laying process is, of course, the sudden lack of a kitchen sink. Yes, from now until the worktops are fitted in approximately two weeks' time and the sink can be installed and made waterproof, we'll be filling the kettle and the coffee maker from the understairs cloakroom sink, and washing up in the bath. What was that I was saying about things getting worse before they get better?
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Stags and Hens
I thought my days of attending stag dos were long behind me, but then I also thought that pretty much everyone whose stag do I might attend was either already married, or unlikely to go that way in the foreseeable. How little I know. The weddings aren't over quite yet and neither, therefore, are the stag dos. Or the hen dos for that matter.
So last night, we enjoyed both. Stags for me, Hens for Nikki, and an amalgamation of both at the beginning and end of the night, since we all got together for pre-do drinkies at Ian and Gill's, and then met up again in time for last orders (just!) at the Test Match.
In between times it was another delightful curry for the lads at the Bombay Bridgford, which equalled its last effort (let's face it, it was never going to surpass it), followed by copious quantities of quaffage on the meandering path back to the TM, via the Larwood and the Pet Shop. Lovely.
Having sunk our last pints at the TM (after somehow managing to convince them to serve us even though the towels had been on the pumps for five minutes before we showed up - the benefits of being regulars :o)) we repaired back to Ian & Gill's to round the night off in similar style.
In fact the whole weekend, despite being Ritchie & Helena's respective dos, had a bit of an "Ian & Gill's" theme to it, as we were back there for breakfast this morning. Much appreciated. Next get together: The Actual Wedding.
So last night, we enjoyed both. Stags for me, Hens for Nikki, and an amalgamation of both at the beginning and end of the night, since we all got together for pre-do drinkies at Ian and Gill's, and then met up again in time for last orders (just!) at the Test Match.
In between times it was another delightful curry for the lads at the Bombay Bridgford, which equalled its last effort (let's face it, it was never going to surpass it), followed by copious quantities of quaffage on the meandering path back to the TM, via the Larwood and the Pet Shop. Lovely.
Having sunk our last pints at the TM (after somehow managing to convince them to serve us even though the towels had been on the pumps for five minutes before we showed up - the benefits of being regulars :o)) we repaired back to Ian & Gill's to round the night off in similar style.
In fact the whole weekend, despite being Ritchie & Helena's respective dos, had a bit of an "Ian & Gill's" theme to it, as we were back there for breakfast this morning. Much appreciated. Next get together: The Actual Wedding.
Friday, September 02, 2011
The flooring cometh
The excitement mounts as we experience the Arrival Of The Materials For The New Floor.
OK, it doesn't look much right now. Just a pile of wood on t'floor. Which ironically is exactly what it will be once it's laid. Only by then it will be a pile of wood exactly one board thick and as wide and as long as the room.
Or rooms, to be entirely accurate, since we're having both kitchen and hall done at the same time.
Starting Monday.
Or rooms, to be entirely accurate, since we're having both kitchen and hall done at the same time.
Starting Monday.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Frog hops to it
After last week's disappointment, masking-tape-wise, I bit the bullet yesterday and went into repair mode, sticking short lengths of Frog Tape on the newly-painted walls under the damaged sections of ceiling, applying daubs of white emulsion, and pulling the tape off immediately to avoid it becoming too well stuck.
A single circumnavigation of the kitchen proved 100% successful this time, and there's now a crisp even line between walls and ceiling with no gaps or tears. Phew. At one point I had visions of getting into a kind of painting loop. Masking the ceiling and painting the walls and then masking the walls and painting the ceiling and then repeat from #1. It didn't happen, I'm relieved to say.
Now we have to settle in for a long wait before the new floor is fitted. Everything was going according to plan until this week. The floor fitter became nervous that the kitchen fitter hadn't confirmed his dates, and so pushed us back a week to avoid having nothing booked in next week. When the kitchen fitter did eventually come up with a date (w/c Sep 12) this strategy was proved right, as this was a week later than we were expecting. Anyway a deathly hush of no progress has now fallen on the kitchen until a week Monday.
A single circumnavigation of the kitchen proved 100% successful this time, and there's now a crisp even line between walls and ceiling with no gaps or tears. Phew. At one point I had visions of getting into a kind of painting loop. Masking the ceiling and painting the walls and then masking the walls and painting the ceiling and then repeat from #1. It didn't happen, I'm relieved to say.
Now we have to settle in for a long wait before the new floor is fitted. Everything was going according to plan until this week. The floor fitter became nervous that the kitchen fitter hadn't confirmed his dates, and so pushed us back a week to avoid having nothing booked in next week. When the kitchen fitter did eventually come up with a date (w/c Sep 12) this strategy was proved right, as this was a week later than we were expecting. Anyway a deathly hush of no progress has now fallen on the kitchen until a week Monday.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Adding a remix to the mix
These weeks between kitchen construction phases, and especially between painting phases where we wait (almost) patiently for the last coat to dry well enough to hold masking tape without causing more damage, are beginning to drag a bit, but it doesn't mean we've been idle.
I can't believe it was (*checks*) last July (!) when we began the process of re-recording and remastering our first album Suburban Nostalgia, but it really has taken this long to find enough spare Thursday evenings to record the ten tracks over again with the key changes, vocal warm-up routines, and additional harmonies, and for Annie to lay down the new backing tracks, add new instruments, and generally spiff it all up.
Having only formally released one album (our second) for digital distribution way back in March last year, I had to refresh my memory of the process, but I'm happy to report that it all came back to me eventually, and I soon had the song files and the (slightly amended) album artwork uploading to the distributor.
The new tracks are already available for streaming from our website, so you can hear the difference right now. Official release of the remixed version of Suburban Nostalgia to iTunes and other online retailers will follow shortly as soon as the distributors have done their thing with all the material. Whoop!
I can't believe it was (*checks*) last July (!) when we began the process of re-recording and remastering our first album Suburban Nostalgia, but it really has taken this long to find enough spare Thursday evenings to record the ten tracks over again with the key changes, vocal warm-up routines, and additional harmonies, and for Annie to lay down the new backing tracks, add new instruments, and generally spiff it all up.
Having only formally released one album (our second) for digital distribution way back in March last year, I had to refresh my memory of the process, but I'm happy to report that it all came back to me eventually, and I soon had the song files and the (slightly amended) album artwork uploading to the distributor.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
An addition to the family
We suffered another small bereavement a little while ago. Not on the same scale as my Mum, of course, but closer to home, at least in a geographical sense.
One of the cherry barbs developed dropsy and had to be humanely euthanised (i.e. transferred to a small bowl of water and left in the freezer for half an hour). This, coupled with the mysterious loss of another fish somewhere along the line (eaten, presumably, although there was never any evidence), reduced the number of cherries to 7 and started me thinking about adding another shoal of something different to the tank.
So on a recent visit to the aquatic centre to gather more food supplies for our fishy friends, we dropped into the basement to see what was on offer, and found these:
They're red ocellated barbs, and they look even more attractive IRL than in this photo.
They also have the added advantage that - being barbs - they should mix in with our existing cherries just fine.
Which is exactly how it went. After a short period of argy-bargy, the new shoal of five all settled down and got along swimmingly (*cough*) with the other seven. For the first few days the ocellated crowd were *extremely* excited at feeding time, rushing up to the surface and gobbling the food while it was still floating. I guess they don't feed very often at the shop. Within a few days they'd realised that food was going to be a regular feature of life in the new place, and calmed down a bit.
One of the cherry barbs developed dropsy and had to be humanely euthanised (i.e. transferred to a small bowl of water and left in the freezer for half an hour). This, coupled with the mysterious loss of another fish somewhere along the line (eaten, presumably, although there was never any evidence), reduced the number of cherries to 7 and started me thinking about adding another shoal of something different to the tank.
So on a recent visit to the aquatic centre to gather more food supplies for our fishy friends, we dropped into the basement to see what was on offer, and found these:
They also have the added advantage that - being barbs - they should mix in with our existing cherries just fine.
Which is exactly how it went. After a short period of argy-bargy, the new shoal of five all settled down and got along swimmingly (*cough*) with the other seven. For the first few days the ocellated crowd were *extremely* excited at feeding time, rushing up to the surface and gobbling the food while it was still floating. I guess they don't feed very often at the shop. Within a few days they'd realised that food was going to be a regular feature of life in the new place, and calmed down a bit.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Potato technology
It's no secret that I love potatoes, but until this last weekend my love-affair with them had only extended as far as the usual mashed, roasted, chipped and baked, with the odd portion of home fries thrown in for good measure.
With the kitchen refit well underway we've been looking to get rid of (i.e. sell) the washing machine and tumble dryer. The latter proved quite easy, since the electrician who turned up to do the first fix electrics had a washer like ours and was interested in the matching dryer. We shook hands on a price and he took it away with him the same day.
Not so simple with the washer. I was going to put it on eBay, but a few minutes research revealed that, even though we've not had any trouble with it in 4+ years, this model is widely reviewed as the worst thing Hotpoint has ever produced. The reviews even mention the faint odour of mildew that we've been noticing over the past few months.
Instead, I offered it on Gumtree at a knock-down price. I had four enquiries within four hours and the first of those emailed to arrange collection on Saturday. They duly turned up, inspected it, handed over the dosh and went away happy while I carried on painting.
It wasn't until a few hours later, when I'd finished painting, washed my roller in the sink and was listening to the gentle splatter of green painty water onto bare floorboards as the sink emptied, that I remembered disconnecting the washing machine would leave a spigot-shaped hole in the drain.
Bugger. I scouted around in vain for something to plug the gap. No "official" blanking plugs for the drain assembly exist - it was installed long before we moved in. No gaffer tape. No glueable artefacts of any kind. Luckily my natural inclination to think of potatoes every few minutes soon came to my rescue.
Deploy the potato! Obvious really. That's something of which we always have "a spare" handy. I made doubly sure of a seal by coring out a plug and then twisting the other side of the spud over the spigot. Works a treat. I'm keeping another one in reserve in case it dries out before the sink is removed in a week or so.
With the kitchen refit well underway we've been looking to get rid of (i.e. sell) the washing machine and tumble dryer. The latter proved quite easy, since the electrician who turned up to do the first fix electrics had a washer like ours and was interested in the matching dryer. We shook hands on a price and he took it away with him the same day.
Not so simple with the washer. I was going to put it on eBay, but a few minutes research revealed that, even though we've not had any trouble with it in 4+ years, this model is widely reviewed as the worst thing Hotpoint has ever produced. The reviews even mention the faint odour of mildew that we've been noticing over the past few months.
Instead, I offered it on Gumtree at a knock-down price. I had four enquiries within four hours and the first of those emailed to arrange collection on Saturday. They duly turned up, inspected it, handed over the dosh and went away happy while I carried on painting.
It wasn't until a few hours later, when I'd finished painting, washed my roller in the sink and was listening to the gentle splatter of green painty water onto bare floorboards as the sink emptied, that I remembered disconnecting the washing machine would leave a spigot-shaped hole in the drain.
Bugger. I scouted around in vain for something to plug the gap. No "official" blanking plugs for the drain assembly exist - it was installed long before we moved in. No gaffer tape. No glueable artefacts of any kind. Luckily my natural inclination to think of potatoes every few minutes soon came to my rescue.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Ribbit, and rip it
21-day tape, it said. Masking tape has a "day value". It's meant to be the number of days you can leave the tape in place and still be able to remove it without damage to the surface. My Frog Tape has been up since yesterday morning, and today, after completing the second coat of Willow Tree, I took it down. My previous traumatic experience in the bedroom has been on my mind a lot this weekend and I was determined not to leave the tape in place a moment longer than necessary. The "oldest" piece was up for about 27 hours.
Do not use on paint that has not been properly cured, it said. Leave it at least 3 days, it said. I left it 7.
Click on the photo to see the full extent of the damage. True, it was nowhere near as bad as the bedroom. Only somewhere between 10-15% (linear) of the ceiling had its paint pulled off. With the old blue tape it was closer to 90%.
A six-fold improvement is, however, still not perfect, and leaves me with a patch-up job to do next weekend. On the positive side, Frog Tape's clever system of a polymer gel (or something) that expands as soon as the emulsion paint wets it, sealing the edge of the tape and leaving a perfectly clean line, did work very well in those areas where the tape came off without damage. I'd definitely use it again.
Do not use on paint that has not been properly cured, it said. Leave it at least 3 days, it said. I left it 7.
A six-fold improvement is, however, still not perfect, and leaves me with a patch-up job to do next weekend. On the positive side, Frog Tape's clever system of a polymer gel (or something) that expands as soon as the emulsion paint wets it, sealing the edge of the tape and leaving a perfectly clean line, did work very well in those areas where the tape came off without damage. I'd definitely use it again.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Greening the kitchen
When we left it, the kitchen was all over white. That was a week ago, and today it was time to begin the process of greening. Because for the walls, we've chosen Willow Tree from Dulux's Kitchen & Bathroom range.
This was also my first chance to use the spiffing new masking tape supplied by Lady Fletcher of East York (thanks Shirley!). Strangely matching the green theme of the day, Frog Tape (it turns out) is actually made in Hemel Hempstead and is - according to the packaging at least - every decorator's friend.
So up it went to protect the white loveliness of the ceiling while I engaged in covering the walls with Willow Tree.
This was also my first chance to use the spiffing new masking tape supplied by Lady Fletcher of East York (thanks Shirley!). Strangely matching the green theme of the day, Frog Tape (it turns out) is actually made in Hemel Hempstead and is - according to the packaging at least - every decorator's friend.
So up it went to protect the white loveliness of the ceiling while I engaged in covering the walls with Willow Tree.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Put it on eBay
That's a phrase that has echoed around our house - both houses actually - for almost ten years. Whenever we inherit or find something, or for one reason or another it becomes surplus to requirements, but it's "just too good" to throw out. Like it still works, or it was originally quite expensive. We have some sort of investment in it still - emotional, financial, psychological - that prevents us from driving it to the tip.
I'm not pretending we never chuck stuff out. We do. But there's always more. And increasingly (it seems) the stuff is still OK. Still serviceable, usable, whatever. Just not by us.
So "the eBay pile" has been growing for many years. That old hi-fi stack I never use. It was all wired up in our previous house. Played occasionally. But that was in the B.I. years. The time Before iPod. When listening to music entailed physically inserting a CD or a cassette tape (a WHAT? Google it) into a device and pressing a real, solid, play button. Not clicking an icon that just *looks* like a play button. Anyhow when we moved, this lovely old stereo stack in its smoked-glass-and-mahogany cabinet came with us and lived under the stairs - well, the loft ladder - for three years. Then the loft ladder was replaced with stairs and the cabinet had to move into the study. Then into the dining room. Still never connected. Never played. Listen, I spent over £2,000 on in it 1984! I can't just throw it out!
The Christmas tree stand that we don't need since we started using an artificial tree that has its own feet. An old telephoto lens for a camera long since crushed under the boot heel of digital technology. The camera that it fits. The aluminium flight case I carried them both around in. The socket set I used to use to service my car, in the days when I did my own car servicing (OK, this item has been kicking around for a lot longer than ten years. It sat in the garage of my old house in Yorkshire quietly rusting away for most of the 12 years I lived in that house, and I hadn't used it much in the ten years before THAT).
You get the picture.
Three months ago something snapped. "Put in on eBay" became something more than just one of those things we say that doesn't really mean what the words imply. I actually listed some things on eBay. What? Yes, you read that right. I started small. A couple of things on the Saturday, and a couple more on Sunday. Just to ease myself into it. And you know what? It was easy. I said I started small, but one of the first things I listed was that stereo. I figured hey, if I'm going to dump my emotional baggage let's start with the biggest bag. It had 11 watchers within 12 hours. It sold easily, and for more than twice the starting price. The guy drove up from Northampton for it.
There's no stopping me now. Well, not quite. I still wait for those "zero listing fee" weekends. eBay gets enough money out of me when I sell the stuff. I'm not giving them anything up front. But gradually, all that tat that's been hanging around for years is disappearing. And the bank balance is rising!
I picked a good time to get into this, when you remember that we just inherited the contents of an entire second house. And 95% of the stuff in it is both stuff we don't want, AND stuff that is "too good to throw out." Only one answer to that. Put it on eBay.
I'm not pretending we never chuck stuff out. We do. But there's always more. And increasingly (it seems) the stuff is still OK. Still serviceable, usable, whatever. Just not by us.
So "the eBay pile" has been growing for many years. That old hi-fi stack I never use. It was all wired up in our previous house. Played occasionally. But that was in the B.I. years. The time Before iPod. When listening to music entailed physically inserting a CD or a cassette tape (a WHAT? Google it) into a device and pressing a real, solid, play button. Not clicking an icon that just *looks* like a play button. Anyhow when we moved, this lovely old stereo stack in its smoked-glass-and-mahogany cabinet came with us and lived under the stairs - well, the loft ladder - for three years. Then the loft ladder was replaced with stairs and the cabinet had to move into the study. Then into the dining room. Still never connected. Never played. Listen, I spent over £2,000 on in it 1984! I can't just throw it out!
The Christmas tree stand that we don't need since we started using an artificial tree that has its own feet. An old telephoto lens for a camera long since crushed under the boot heel of digital technology. The camera that it fits. The aluminium flight case I carried them both around in. The socket set I used to use to service my car, in the days when I did my own car servicing (OK, this item has been kicking around for a lot longer than ten years. It sat in the garage of my old house in Yorkshire quietly rusting away for most of the 12 years I lived in that house, and I hadn't used it much in the ten years before THAT).
You get the picture.
Three months ago something snapped. "Put in on eBay" became something more than just one of those things we say that doesn't really mean what the words imply. I actually listed some things on eBay. What? Yes, you read that right. I started small. A couple of things on the Saturday, and a couple more on Sunday. Just to ease myself into it. And you know what? It was easy. I said I started small, but one of the first things I listed was that stereo. I figured hey, if I'm going to dump my emotional baggage let's start with the biggest bag. It had 11 watchers within 12 hours. It sold easily, and for more than twice the starting price. The guy drove up from Northampton for it.
There's no stopping me now. Well, not quite. I still wait for those "zero listing fee" weekends. eBay gets enough money out of me when I sell the stuff. I'm not giving them anything up front. But gradually, all that tat that's been hanging around for years is disappearing. And the bank balance is rising!
I picked a good time to get into this, when you remember that we just inherited the contents of an entire second house. And 95% of the stuff in it is both stuff we don't want, AND stuff that is "too good to throw out." Only one answer to that. Put it on eBay.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Print this
A 6-month-long experiment concluded today. The experiment, if it had enjoyed a title, would have been called something like "How long will printout continue to be usable in the face of dire warnings regarding ink levels from the Lexmark print dialog?"
Some background: Four or five times a year, I print off a set of posters for the Chorlton Players containing groups of the photos I've taken at dress rehearsal. Six pages of A4 in total. Back in January when I was printing the panto photos I had the first warning from Lex (the American guy who makes such handy announcements as "printing started" and "printing complete" just in case, you know, you hadn't noticed that the paper had started being fed through the machine, or stopped, respectively).
"Colour ink is low!" he declared in his pleasant, mid-Atlantic tones.
Well I was near the end of the run back then (why am I talking like a Texan in my head? I almost added "y'all" at the end there) so I didn't worry about it, and I don't print much colour stuff normally anyway. Just those nice little green Asda vouchers that pop out almost every week as a result of their "10% cheaper than every other store" claim.
So I continued to ignore the little red "X" in my colour cartridge silo, until it came time to print the next set of Players' photos, in March. Way back when I first started to do these posters, I'd reckoned on getting 3 sets out of a colour cartridge. The panto posters had been set #3 and that little red X had been glowering at me for a couple of months. But then I figured hey! Paper is cheap. Ink is expensive. Why don't I just carry on printing stuff out until it starts to fade? That way, I've only wasted a sheet of paper, and I'll have made sure that ALL the ink is used up.
The more quick-witted of you will probably have reached this conclusion several years ago. Sometimes, in prosaic matters such as these, I can be a bit slow.
Players Posters Set #4 printed off, in their entirety, without incident. I'd checked the little box to stop Lex warning me weeks before, so not only were the posters just dandy, but I didn't get nagged either.
Fast forward to the Players' annual comedy sketch show (normally known as the Hotpot show, but this year featuring a specially written farce cleverly embedding several sketches within it) and by this time there wasn't much black ink left either. So little, in fact, that I'd been warned several weeks previously that the cartridge was now on its reserve tank! Order your new cartridges immediately!
Naturally I'd bought replacement cartridges several months before, but I'd got the bit between my teeth now. No way I was replacing those damn cartridges now until they'd been bled completely dry. Dagnabbit!
The posters for Hotpot, aka Players Posters Set #5, printed off, in their entirety, without incident. Now THAT was a surprise, I can tell you. By the end of the run the little colour ink marker had been swapped out for a diluted, faded version no doubt intended to offer a compelling visual clue to the impending colourlessness of my printing. The black ink "X" had long since disappeared altogether, the black silo showing completely empty and devoid of any X, faded or otherwise.
That was back in May. Finally, today, I printed a letter and the last paragraph was illegible. So that's an expensive lesson learned. If I'd swapped out the cartridges when first warned, assuming there wasn't enough ink left to complete a poster run, I'd have missed out on almost half a year's worth of printing.
Paper is cheap. Ink is expensive. I'll remember that from now on.
Some background: Four or five times a year, I print off a set of posters for the Chorlton Players containing groups of the photos I've taken at dress rehearsal. Six pages of A4 in total. Back in January when I was printing the panto photos I had the first warning from Lex (the American guy who makes such handy announcements as "printing started" and "printing complete" just in case, you know, you hadn't noticed that the paper had started being fed through the machine, or stopped, respectively).
"Colour ink is low!" he declared in his pleasant, mid-Atlantic tones.
Well I was near the end of the run back then (why am I talking like a Texan in my head? I almost added "y'all" at the end there) so I didn't worry about it, and I don't print much colour stuff normally anyway. Just those nice little green Asda vouchers that pop out almost every week as a result of their "10% cheaper than every other store" claim.
So I continued to ignore the little red "X" in my colour cartridge silo, until it came time to print the next set of Players' photos, in March. Way back when I first started to do these posters, I'd reckoned on getting 3 sets out of a colour cartridge. The panto posters had been set #3 and that little red X had been glowering at me for a couple of months. But then I figured hey! Paper is cheap. Ink is expensive. Why don't I just carry on printing stuff out until it starts to fade? That way, I've only wasted a sheet of paper, and I'll have made sure that ALL the ink is used up.
The more quick-witted of you will probably have reached this conclusion several years ago. Sometimes, in prosaic matters such as these, I can be a bit slow.
Players Posters Set #4 printed off, in their entirety, without incident. I'd checked the little box to stop Lex warning me weeks before, so not only were the posters just dandy, but I didn't get nagged either.
Fast forward to the Players' annual comedy sketch show (normally known as the Hotpot show, but this year featuring a specially written farce cleverly embedding several sketches within it) and by this time there wasn't much black ink left either. So little, in fact, that I'd been warned several weeks previously that the cartridge was now on its reserve tank! Order your new cartridges immediately!
Naturally I'd bought replacement cartridges several months before, but I'd got the bit between my teeth now. No way I was replacing those damn cartridges now until they'd been bled completely dry. Dagnabbit!
The posters for Hotpot, aka Players Posters Set #5, printed off, in their entirety, without incident. Now THAT was a surprise, I can tell you. By the end of the run the little colour ink marker had been swapped out for a diluted, faded version no doubt intended to offer a compelling visual clue to the impending colourlessness of my printing. The black ink "X" had long since disappeared altogether, the black silo showing completely empty and devoid of any X, faded or otherwise.
That was back in May. Finally, today, I printed a letter and the last paragraph was illegible. So that's an expensive lesson learned. If I'd swapped out the cartridges when first warned, assuming there wasn't enough ink left to complete a poster run, I'd have missed out on almost half a year's worth of printing.
Paper is cheap. Ink is expensive. I'll remember that from now on.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Next morning is no time for mourning
If plastering is the stage where a room turns its back on being a building site, then the first coat of paint is where it starts to look forward to being a room again. Back from yesterday's funeral, if we were to have any chance of staying on schedule with the kitchen then today was the day I had to start painting. And I did. An 8am start, a 15-minute break for breakfast on the hoof, I was finished by half past three.
Well, it's a big room, and the first coat always takes the longest. The plaster slurps up the paint as fast as I can apply it, and the entire area - walls AND ceiling - needs painting, so it takes a while.
Worth it though:
Well, it's a big room, and the first coat always takes the longest. The plaster slurps up the paint as fast as I can apply it, and the entire area - walls AND ceiling - needs painting, so it takes a while.
Worth it though:
Friday, August 12, 2011
Not bad, as funerals go
Kind of ironic, having a funeral on "the glorious twelfth," but knowing both my parents' sense of humour I'm sure they will have appreciated it.
Yes, I have the tense of that sentence correct. Sitting up there, on their cloud (or whatever imagery you prefer), they are still present, and have a future, both in grammatical and spiritual terms.
It was a very nice service, even though the lady who took it was in (or near to) tears for most of the time. She knew Mum very well. Let no-one ever try to tell me there’s nothing “in” Spiritualism. When we originally met with the funeral director, he asked if Mum belonged to any particular religious denomination, and naturally I told him she was a Spiritualist. This didn’t faze him in the slightest. He told us he had several contacts from that neck of the ecclesiastical woods who might be prepared to hold the service, and called me the next day to say he’d found someone and she would be phoning me shortly to go over what we wanted in the service, gather some anecdotes etc to mention in the address – the usual sort of thing.
Anyway this lady called me the next day when we were back at home. She was the first name on his list (of five) that the funeral director had called. When he told her who the service was for, she said she got chills down her back. Because Mum had asked her FOUR YEARS AGO if she would give the eulogy. And they’d sat down for half an hour with a tape recorder running, discussing all the memories and music she wanted at the service.
Some people would no doubt say “coincidence.” I think different.
I have that tape albeit with nothing to play it on. I'll be arranging to have it transferred onto CD soon. So thanks for asking how I am, but really... I’m fine. I’ve been fine all along. My Dad’s passing back in 1993 was a shock – unexpected, and traumatic because it separated him and my Mum. Mum’s passing was not unexpected. More: it was wished for (by her). They are reunited now, and happy. I have nothing to be sad about...
Since the "family seat" had been tarnished by years of living downstairs - bed in the dining room, clothes, pharmaceutical supplies and medical notes everywhere, etc - it wasn't really suitable for "keeping up" the funeral, so we repaired to the Test Match where the new landlord laid on a fine buffet lunch for the 20 of us and we sat and chatted and reminisced in the usual way of these things. No-one stayed much past 3pm, which suited us as it meant we could hit the road back to Manchester before the Friday afternoon rush started. Something else Mum would have approved of :o)
Yes, I have the tense of that sentence correct. Sitting up there, on their cloud (or whatever imagery you prefer), they are still present, and have a future, both in grammatical and spiritual terms.
It was a very nice service, even though the lady who took it was in (or near to) tears for most of the time. She knew Mum very well. Let no-one ever try to tell me there’s nothing “in” Spiritualism. When we originally met with the funeral director, he asked if Mum belonged to any particular religious denomination, and naturally I told him she was a Spiritualist. This didn’t faze him in the slightest. He told us he had several contacts from that neck of the ecclesiastical woods who might be prepared to hold the service, and called me the next day to say he’d found someone and she would be phoning me shortly to go over what we wanted in the service, gather some anecdotes etc to mention in the address – the usual sort of thing.
Anyway this lady called me the next day when we were back at home. She was the first name on his list (of five) that the funeral director had called. When he told her who the service was for, she said she got chills down her back. Because Mum had asked her FOUR YEARS AGO if she would give the eulogy. And they’d sat down for half an hour with a tape recorder running, discussing all the memories and music she wanted at the service.
Some people would no doubt say “coincidence.” I think different.
I have that tape albeit with nothing to play it on. I'll be arranging to have it transferred onto CD soon. So thanks for asking how I am, but really... I’m fine. I’ve been fine all along. My Dad’s passing back in 1993 was a shock – unexpected, and traumatic because it separated him and my Mum. Mum’s passing was not unexpected. More: it was wished for (by her). They are reunited now, and happy. I have nothing to be sad about...
Since the "family seat" had been tarnished by years of living downstairs - bed in the dining room, clothes, pharmaceutical supplies and medical notes everywhere, etc - it wasn't really suitable for "keeping up" the funeral, so we repaired to the Test Match where the new landlord laid on a fine buffet lunch for the 20 of us and we sat and chatted and reminisced in the usual way of these things. No-one stayed much past 3pm, which suited us as it meant we could hit the road back to Manchester before the Friday afternoon rush started. Something else Mum would have approved of :o)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Plastered again
Probably my favourite part of "doing up" any room, this. The plastering. Not only a fascinating skill to watch, and one that I have never mastered (so it impresses me every time) but also the single most impactful change to a room. The one where it goes from tatty old building site to almost-pristine new room in a few days. Three days in this case, as our plasterer Neil was working on his own.
Day 1 (Monday of last week) was pretty much taken up with preparing for the skim coat. The inside of the chimney breast, where the new induction hob will go, was "dot and dabbed" with plasterboard, edged with... er... edging strip, and scrim cloth applied.
The rest of the room had browning plaster slapped on all exposed brickwork and deep gaps, as well as a bit more dot and dab at the original cooker site, and a clever rectangle of metal mesh laid over the plywood sheet that occupied the space where the new radiator will go. The plumber was convinced the entire room would be dot and dabbed, rather than simply skimmed, and wouldn't be gainsayed, so he wanted to make sure there was a good purchase for his mounting screws. Fine for him; a bit of a headache for the spread.
Day 2 and the skimming started with the ceiling and the long wall starting to look finished. Our plasterer carries with him the traditional tradesman's portable radio, tuned permanently to Rock Radio. Not only an expert spread but a fine taste in music too!
After lunch, the end wall was completed, along with the insides of the chimney breast, and the sides of the left-hand ex-cupboard space. Things were definitely taking shape.
Finally on Day 3 the front of the chimney breast, old cooker wall and the boiler/window wall all got their skim coat and the job was done.
All we can do now is to wait until the whole room dries out (from previous experience I'd estimate about a week) before I can start slapping on the paint.
After lunch, the end wall was completed, along with the insides of the chimney breast, and the sides of the left-hand ex-cupboard space. Things were definitely taking shape.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Access all areas
First job of the reconstruction, and carefully scheduled so that any inadvertent damage to the plasterwork comes *before* the plasterer's visit - the replacement of the old, drafty, maintenance-intensive wooden patio doors with a new set of draft-free, maintenance-free, high U value, PVCu patio doors with a single pane above:
The manufacturer's tape, just in case you were wondering, has been left on deliberately to protect the frames from (a) the new plaster and (b) my painting. It'll come off in a couple of weeks.
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
A bit of knock-off
The final final deconstruction was something else I felt competent to manage myself. I'm pretty good at demolition :o)
The skirting board and picture rails had to come off. Me and my trusty crowbar accomplished that in considerably less than half an hour (including cleaning up time). The only slight accident - and it's one that we predicted given its extremely loose attachment - was the total loss of plaster on the chimney breast beneath the picture rail. An area about 18 inches deep and already disturbed by the reconstruction work on the brickwork, it never really stood a chance once I got going with the crowbar.
With this and the section behind the old cooker now both back to the brick, we thought it prudent to call the plasterer back for another look before he gave us his final quote!
The skirting board and picture rails had to come off. Me and my trusty crowbar accomplished that in considerably less than half an hour (including cleaning up time). The only slight accident - and it's one that we predicted given its extremely loose attachment - was the total loss of plaster on the chimney breast beneath the picture rail. An area about 18 inches deep and already disturbed by the reconstruction work on the brickwork, it never really stood a chance once I got going with the crowbar.
Monday, August 08, 2011
Deconstruction - final phase
Another short hiatus for this blog - how the time flies. Good job I don't rely on a regular flow of posts for my income or I'd be destitute.
We've been distracted from the ongoing kitchen saga by a 2-day trip to Nottingham to sort out legal and logistical stuff following Mum's death (death certificate, notifying various authorities, meeting solicitor, arranging funeral, that kind of thing) as well as trying to sort out almost 60 years of "stuff" in her house. Yes, that's going to take more than 2 days, but at least we made a start. Not surprising that I've not felt much like blogging; just annoying that I'd only just picked up the metaphorical quill again before all this kicked off. Anyway, the funeral's Friday, so I thought I'd bang out a bit more kitchen-related news to pass the time.
When we left off, I mentioned there were two more demolition/deconstruction jobs to do before things began to get better. The first of these was the first-fix plumbing.
A couple of small items - disconnecting and removing a radiator from one end of the kitchen and plumbing in a supply for the new radiator in its new position behind the door; and sinking the main supply pipes to the boiler under the floor from their previous run which was behind the old cupboard, and in the new world would have been behind the cooker (not to mention in the way of coring out the wall to allow the tumble drier to vent).
The main thing though, was to resite the sink unit away from the wall to allow the plasterer space to plaster, while still allowing us a usable sink until the last possible day.
<---before
after--->
Looks a bit strange, but it serves its purpose. And our plasterer is a big guy. Needs a lot of room. I only wish we'd remembered to move the old cooker out before the plumber reconnected the sink. Doh!
We've been distracted from the ongoing kitchen saga by a 2-day trip to Nottingham to sort out legal and logistical stuff following Mum's death (death certificate, notifying various authorities, meeting solicitor, arranging funeral, that kind of thing) as well as trying to sort out almost 60 years of "stuff" in her house. Yes, that's going to take more than 2 days, but at least we made a start. Not surprising that I've not felt much like blogging; just annoying that I'd only just picked up the metaphorical quill again before all this kicked off. Anyway, the funeral's Friday, so I thought I'd bang out a bit more kitchen-related news to pass the time.
When we left off, I mentioned there were two more demolition/deconstruction jobs to do before things began to get better. The first of these was the first-fix plumbing.
A couple of small items - disconnecting and removing a radiator from one end of the kitchen and plumbing in a supply for the new radiator in its new position behind the door; and sinking the main supply pipes to the boiler under the floor from their previous run which was behind the old cupboard, and in the new world would have been behind the cooker (not to mention in the way of coring out the wall to allow the tumble drier to vent).
The main thing though, was to resite the sink unit away from the wall to allow the plasterer space to plaster, while still allowing us a usable sink until the last possible day.
after--->
Looks a bit strange, but it serves its purpose. And our plasterer is a big guy. Needs a lot of room. I only wish we'd remembered to move the old cooker out before the plumber reconnected the sink. Doh!
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
For once, I have no clever title
Woke at 1.01am for yet another nocturnal "visit" and, still wide awake more than an hour later, I finally decided I might as well get up. The clock check was 2.22. I experience a lot of these nicely patterned times, especially at night (I've written several times about them before under the 'spookiness' tag) and I have no idea why. Maybe seeing patterns in things is a sign of mental illness. But there again, being able to wonder if it is is probably a sign that I'm alright. :o) But this post isn't about spooky patterns on the clock, or insomnia.
My Mum died on Sunday night.
Didn't get much sleep that night either, but more a case of never getting to sleep in the first place. At least, not until after 3.30. And then I was up again two hours later. Last night was a bit better (being knackered helps) but tonight it looks like I'm back on the merry-go-round of thinking of everything I need to do, and things I already did. Things I didn't do that maybe I should have.
I've been telling people it wasn't unexpected, and it wasn't. She had COPD, and everyone knows that's a one-way street, but more than that - after the events of recent weeks we would have to have been abnormally ostrich-like not to expect "the worst." But can you ever be prepared for it? Maybe on an intellectual level. Perhaps that intellectual preparation allows you to skip the traditional first stage of grief - i.e. denial. Although, you know, the irony of denying that I'm in denial is not lost on me. I seem to be missing out on the 'anger' part as well. Who would I be angry with? Mum? It's hardly her fault (apart from the smoking of course, but it feels like it's always been decades too late to do anything about that). The care home? They did what they could. God? Let's not even go there. And what would I be angry about? That she's free from pain? No longer has to fight to get every breath? That - the next few weeks of estate management aside - I'm absolved from the duty of those five-hour round trips to visit someone who had become unrecognisable as the woman most often referred to as "awesome" by my friends, old and new, and those of my in-laws that met her. Whose failing memory left her incapable of remembering conversations we'd repeated four times since our arrival not half an hour earlier? And, perhaps more significantly, of remembering that we had visited at all. Or telephoned, on the weeks we couldn't visit.
I'd rather friends remembered her as the vibrant capable welcoming whirlwind who cooked up a full fried English breakfast for eight when we dropped in unannounced one Bank Holiday Monday morning after an all-night party. That breakfast is still fondly remembered more than thirty years later by all who partook.
There's a lot more to say, but I have that happy memory in my mind so I'll stop for now.
My Mum died on Sunday night.
Didn't get much sleep that night either, but more a case of never getting to sleep in the first place. At least, not until after 3.30. And then I was up again two hours later. Last night was a bit better (being knackered helps) but tonight it looks like I'm back on the merry-go-round of thinking of everything I need to do, and things I already did. Things I didn't do that maybe I should have.
I've been telling people it wasn't unexpected, and it wasn't. She had COPD, and everyone knows that's a one-way street, but more than that - after the events of recent weeks we would have to have been abnormally ostrich-like not to expect "the worst." But can you ever be prepared for it? Maybe on an intellectual level. Perhaps that intellectual preparation allows you to skip the traditional first stage of grief - i.e. denial. Although, you know, the irony of denying that I'm in denial is not lost on me. I seem to be missing out on the 'anger' part as well. Who would I be angry with? Mum? It's hardly her fault (apart from the smoking of course, but it feels like it's always been decades too late to do anything about that). The care home? They did what they could. God? Let's not even go there. And what would I be angry about? That she's free from pain? No longer has to fight to get every breath? That - the next few weeks of estate management aside - I'm absolved from the duty of those five-hour round trips to visit someone who had become unrecognisable as the woman most often referred to as "awesome" by my friends, old and new, and those of my in-laws that met her. Whose failing memory left her incapable of remembering conversations we'd repeated four times since our arrival not half an hour earlier? And, perhaps more significantly, of remembering that we had visited at all. Or telephoned, on the weeks we couldn't visit.
I'd rather friends remembered her as the vibrant capable welcoming whirlwind who cooked up a full fried English breakfast for eight when we dropped in unannounced one Bank Holiday Monday morning after an all-night party. That breakfast is still fondly remembered more than thirty years later by all who partook.
There's a lot more to say, but I have that happy memory in my mind so I'll stop for now.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Hoodless
Electricians - or at least the ones employed by our kitchen guy - do electrics. They don't do deconstruction. So following the first fix we were left with a disconnected cooker hood. Quite literally a "hang over" from the Days of the Old Kitchen.
Fortunately removal proved fairly simple. It was held up with two screws in those adjustable slots, and slid off easily once I'd loosened them.
Long term readers may spot another hang over - a remnant of the Days of the Flame Effect Ragroll - visible in the space vacated by the cooker hood. A telling clue that I didn't remove the hood when last I painted the kitchen. What can I say? Those few coats of Hint of Apple (or whatever it was) were always intended as a quick fix.
With the hood gone it was time to knock off the tiled splashback - another task completed in double-quick time. Endampened by years of boiling pans, the plaster behind the cooker came off with the tiles. Finding an "edge" in these situations is always tricky. If you're not careful you can end up stripping the plaster off the entire wall. Luckily this time I managed to detect the point at which the remaining plaster was secure enough to take a skim coat, and leave it at that.
Only two remaining "demolition-type" jobs before we can start building back up again.
Fortunately removal proved fairly simple. It was held up with two screws in those adjustable slots, and slid off easily once I'd loosened them.
With the hood gone it was time to knock off the tiled splashback - another task completed in double-quick time. Endampened by years of boiling pans, the plaster behind the cooker came off with the tiles. Finding an "edge" in these situations is always tricky. If you're not careful you can end up stripping the plaster off the entire wall. Luckily this time I managed to detect the point at which the remaining plaster was secure enough to take a skim coat, and leave it at that.
Only two remaining "demolition-type" jobs before we can start building back up again.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Sparks fly
After a few days hiatus in between cupboard removal and arrival of the electricians, during which we prepared three not-quite-so-enormous-as-usual-on-account-of-some-neighbours-being-away salads for the annual neighbourhood barbecue, and attended said barbecue, and spent a day recovering from said barbecue... the first fix for the electrics got underway.
And after two days, we had a lot more holes in the ceiling than we're used to - 12 to be precise - along with copious amounts of trunked twin-with-earth and some scars in the plaster where the wall lights used to be. There were also some forlorn little dusty holes where the old power sockets lived, sharing wall space with some equally dusty holes in new positions which weren't quite so forlorn, being tightly packed with coils of more twin-with-earth eagerly awaiting their double socket covers.
Did I say it would get worse before it got better? There's a way to go yet in the "worse" direction.
Did I say it would get worse before it got better? There's a way to go yet in the "worse" direction.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The final cupboard
With the electricians booked in for the following week I decided to dedicate my last official day off work - Friday 15 July - as Cupboard Removal Day.
It didn't take anywhere near a day. What appeared to be a very substantial structure proved to be nothing more than a few bits of wood nailed together. Certainly no match for my trusty crowbar. Within a couple of hours the space was looking like a perfect match for the rest of the kitchen.
Behind the plywood carcase, several years of ancient damp wallpaper hung limply from the walls. Blown plaster fell off in chunks. And on the left of the space, the cupboard had offered sanctuary to a run of burglar alarm signal cable, which was the main reason for the demolition taking two hours rather than 45 minutes. I had to unpick it carefully from each shelf, saw it out of the bottom shelf, and avoid breaking any of its fragile core.
Demolition also revealed the strange light switch that had been sited inside the cupboard and for which we have never been able to discern a purpose. My decision to leave it dangling awaiting the services of a qualified electrician (read: someone with a multimeter) later turned out to be the right one, as the electrician discovered it was still live. It isolates the security light over the back door (whose bulb, long blown, has never been replaced).
It didn't take anywhere near a day. What appeared to be a very substantial structure proved to be nothing more than a few bits of wood nailed together. Certainly no match for my trusty crowbar. Within a couple of hours the space was looking like a perfect match for the rest of the kitchen.
Demolition also revealed the strange light switch that had been sited inside the cupboard and for which we have never been able to discern a purpose. My decision to leave it dangling awaiting the services of a qualified electrician (read: someone with a multimeter) later turned out to be the right one, as the electrician discovered it was still live. It isolates the security light over the back door (whose bulb, long blown, has never been replaced).
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Getting abreast of things
In preparation for the builders' arrival, we cleared everything movable out of the kitchen on the evening of July 8th, except for the cooker. Amazing how big a room it is when there's nothing in it!
The following day, we closed all possible doors to prevent egress of the inevitable dirt, dust and soot, and left them to it. After several hours of grinding and banging noises, and a couple of very worrying sounds of falling masonry, we were greeted with a beautifully remodelled kitchen:
The height of the hob space in the chimney breast has been raised to 1900mm and a new lintel installed, hearth tiles chiselled off and the entire structure of the largest cupboard removed including all the redundant central heating pipework from the old boiler. As you can see, things are looking a bit "industrial."
It's going to get worse before it gets better. I have the last remaining cupboard to strip out myself before the electricians come to do the first fix. In my naive way, I had hoped that the tradespeople could be scheduled to visit one after the other in quick succession, and immediately preceding the kitchen fit-out. No such luck. The builders first available date - 9 July - precedes the manufacture of the new kitchen units by a full 8 weeks, so we'll be camping out in the dining room until September, while the kitchen degrades even further towards a building site.
The following day, we closed all possible doors to prevent egress of the inevitable dirt, dust and soot, and left them to it. After several hours of grinding and banging noises, and a couple of very worrying sounds of falling masonry, we were greeted with a beautifully remodelled kitchen:
It's going to get worse before it gets better. I have the last remaining cupboard to strip out myself before the electricians come to do the first fix. In my naive way, I had hoped that the tradespeople could be scheduled to visit one after the other in quick succession, and immediately preceding the kitchen fit-out. No such luck. The builders first available date - 9 July - precedes the manufacture of the new kitchen units by a full 8 weeks, so we'll be camping out in the dining room until September, while the kitchen degrades even further towards a building site.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Putting the kit in kitchen
Without further ado - because at the time of writing we're already more than two weeks in to the project - here we go with the Story of The Kitchen. I can almost sense your excitement.
So here's our starting point.
On the left, the view towards the garden, showing an almost-original, traditional kitchen for this style of house, its old fashioned cupboards and drawers still in place, and the tiled hearth (where the old boiler used to live) pressed into service as a storage area for garden tools, plastic crates full of decorating materials, and other general bits of tat. That boiler has been gone for more than four years, but in the absence of any investment the space is just a space.
On the right, looking towards the front of the house, you can still see the cupboard, but now enjoy the view of the vast expanse of work surface (a couple of feet at most) that we've been preparing meals on for 4+ years, atop a very basic set of units, along with a tiny sink, the now-bricked-up side door, and the 5-burner gas range with cooker hood.
Space on the opposite side of the room occupied by, from left to right, tumble dryer with microwave atop, matching AEG fridge and freezer (the only appliances being retained), a butcher's block table carrying slow cooker, kettle and toaster, and a tile-topped kitchen table and four chairs.
I say "almost" original kitchen because the cooker end was at one time walled in to create the traditional Victorian/Edwardian scullery, with the remainder of the room being a "morning room." Those walls had been removed long before we moved in, leaving us with a rectangular space approximately 3metres by 7.
So here we go. Eyes down for a new kitchen, starting with stripping back the chimney breast to make space for a new hob, tearing out the old cupboards (with not even a nod to the traditionalists who would have kept and refurbished them), rewiring, replumbing, replacing the patio doors, installing a new floor and fitting several yards of new units with new integrated appliances. The builders arrived bright and early on the morning of Saturday 9 July...
So here's our starting point.
On the left, the view towards the garden, showing an almost-original, traditional kitchen for this style of house, its old fashioned cupboards and drawers still in place, and the tiled hearth (where the old boiler used to live) pressed into service as a storage area for garden tools, plastic crates full of decorating materials, and other general bits of tat. That boiler has been gone for more than four years, but in the absence of any investment the space is just a space.
On the right, looking towards the front of the house, you can still see the cupboard, but now enjoy the view of the vast expanse of work surface (a couple of feet at most) that we've been preparing meals on for 4+ years, atop a very basic set of units, along with a tiny sink, the now-bricked-up side door, and the 5-burner gas range with cooker hood.
Space on the opposite side of the room occupied by, from left to right, tumble dryer with microwave atop, matching AEG fridge and freezer (the only appliances being retained), a butcher's block table carrying slow cooker, kettle and toaster, and a tile-topped kitchen table and four chairs.
I say "almost" original kitchen because the cooker end was at one time walled in to create the traditional Victorian/Edwardian scullery, with the remainder of the room being a "morning room." Those walls had been removed long before we moved in, leaving us with a rectangular space approximately 3metres by 7.
So here we go. Eyes down for a new kitchen, starting with stripping back the chimney breast to make space for a new hob, tearing out the old cupboards (with not even a nod to the traditionalists who would have kept and refurbished them), rewiring, replumbing, replacing the patio doors, installing a new floor and fitting several yards of new units with new integrated appliances. The builders arrived bright and early on the morning of Saturday 9 July...
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Manchester calling...
*tap* *tap*
This thing on?
*cough*
Hello!
Welcome back. To me, that is. You've probably been here all along, wondering where I was. Turns out *I* was here all along too. Just not saying much. Shit happens, they say. And shit is pretty much what has been happening. I might even write about it one day, but not right now.
So, when last we spoke, Nikki & I were in Toronto. April 26. Good grief! Was that really the last entry? That's almost three months ago!! *slaps wrist* Well that pretty much puts the mockers on my usual "chronological" approach to blogging. As regular readers (if I have any left!) will know, I like to keep things in order. Even if I'm writing the entry two or three weeks behind the event, it'll still have the real date on it. The date it actually happened. That's not so bad if I'm only three weeks behind, but three months? No. I'd never catch up, and besides one of the reasons for blowing the dust off this cobwebby part of the Intertubes is a pointed request for pictures of our CURRENT project. If I wrote up everything (significant) that has happened in the interim then the kitchen would be finished before it even got started, if you see what I mean.
No the only way to do this is to package up the last three months into a little box and leave it over there in the corner. Over the next few months I might open up the box and take one or two choice pieces out for display purposes, but for the time being we need to get started with what's going on right now.
Although perhaps, before we get to that, I should tidy up the news from our Toronto trip. I wouldn't want to leave us hanging there, so to speak, having apparently only just been lunching in the distillery district and then magically transplanted three months into the future back in Manchester. Here, then, are the rudimentary details of the few draft entries I'd queued up covering the remainder of that trip, with their prospective titles drummed into service as headings:
Man-daRIN
(Family joke). Shirley & Neil took us for dinner at the Mandarin all-you-can-eat restaurant. Now, we have AYCE outlets in Manchester - the ones we visit most often being the No. 1 Chinese buffet, and the Nawaab Indian - but even though they are both firm favourites and very good value for money the quality is nothing like Mandarin. Wow. Absolutely fabulous Chinese food, lots of it, masses of choice, and everything tastes as fresh as if it had been cooked to order. This place became a firm favourite almost on the first mouthful. We'll definitely be back.
This thing on?
*cough*
Hello!
Welcome back. To me, that is. You've probably been here all along, wondering where I was. Turns out *I* was here all along too. Just not saying much. Shit happens, they say. And shit is pretty much what has been happening. I might even write about it one day, but not right now.
So, when last we spoke, Nikki & I were in Toronto. April 26. Good grief! Was that really the last entry? That's almost three months ago!! *slaps wrist* Well that pretty much puts the mockers on my usual "chronological" approach to blogging. As regular readers (if I have any left!) will know, I like to keep things in order. Even if I'm writing the entry two or three weeks behind the event, it'll still have the real date on it. The date it actually happened. That's not so bad if I'm only three weeks behind, but three months? No. I'd never catch up, and besides one of the reasons for blowing the dust off this cobwebby part of the Intertubes is a pointed request for pictures of our CURRENT project. If I wrote up everything (significant) that has happened in the interim then the kitchen would be finished before it even got started, if you see what I mean.
No the only way to do this is to package up the last three months into a little box and leave it over there in the corner. Over the next few months I might open up the box and take one or two choice pieces out for display purposes, but for the time being we need to get started with what's going on right now.
Although perhaps, before we get to that, I should tidy up the news from our Toronto trip. I wouldn't want to leave us hanging there, so to speak, having apparently only just been lunching in the distillery district and then magically transplanted three months into the future back in Manchester. Here, then, are the rudimentary details of the few draft entries I'd queued up covering the remainder of that trip, with their prospective titles drummed into service as headings:
Man-daRIN
(Family joke). Shirley & Neil took us for dinner at the Mandarin all-you-can-eat restaurant. Now, we have AYCE outlets in Manchester - the ones we visit most often being the No. 1 Chinese buffet, and the Nawaab Indian - but even though they are both firm favourites and very good value for money the quality is nothing like Mandarin. Wow. Absolutely fabulous Chinese food, lots of it, masses of choice, and everything tastes as fresh as if it had been cooked to order. This place became a firm favourite almost on the first mouthful. We'll definitely be back.
My fortune cookie for the evening: Accept no other definition of your life, accept only your own.
How apt.
Kensington
Shortly before our return, Paul took us for a wander around Kensington market. We lunched at Big Fat Burrito (delicious) and picked up some cool Christmas presents from the various shops and stalls.
How apt.
Kensington
Shortly before our return, Paul took us for a wander around Kensington market. We lunched at Big Fat Burrito (delicious) and picked up some cool Christmas presents from the various shops and stalls.
That evening we had dinner at the Tulip steak house, which surprisingly (the place looks a little run-down and basic) proved by popular acclaim to be the best steak we had all holiday. And also, after a little persuasion, the best rack of lamb!! (*ahem*)
JB @ JB
After a last minute trudge around Walmarts to pick up those few essential items that just aren't available in the UK, we returned to Jawny Bakers for dinner. Hard to beat for atmosphere and quality (in my opinion - but I admit to being completely biased since this place holds very fond memories for me), it ran the Tulip a close second for steak quality but it's somewhere I couldn't imagine visiting Toronto without going.
Pack it in
Packing for the return trip became interesting, and a little Dickensian:
JB @ JB
After a last minute trudge around Walmarts to pick up those few essential items that just aren't available in the UK, we returned to Jawny Bakers for dinner. Hard to beat for atmosphere and quality (in my opinion - but I admit to being completely biased since this place holds very fond memories for me), it ran the Tulip a close second for steak quality but it's somewhere I couldn't imagine visiting Toronto without going.
Pack it in
Packing for the return trip became interesting, and a little Dickensian:
Suitcase #1: 25kgs
Suitcase #2: 20kgs
Allowance: 40kgs.
Result: misery.
Result: misery.
Ah, but... at this stage, Carry on #1 weighed 2kgs and carry on #2: 2kgs, with a carry-on allowance of 10kgs. So after some judicious redistribution of contents...
Suitcase #1: 20kgs
Suitcase #2: 20kgs
Carry-on #1: 4.5kgs
Carry-on #2: 4.5kgs
Result: happiness.
Suitcase #1: 20kgs
Suitcase #2: 20kgs
Carry-on #1: 4.5kgs
Carry-on #2: 4.5kgs
Result: happiness.
I was also going to post something humorous about the pharma ads on Canadian/US TV. Honestly, if you haven't seen one check it out. Little beats them for unintentional black humour. I might still do a post on that at some stage. (Probably during our next trip, when I'll be exposed to them again :o))
And finally...
I just read this back and realised that I've waxed lyrical about all the wonderful meals we had OUT, but nary a mention of all the many wonderful meals we had IN. So many grateful thanks to Shirley for repeatedly proving that home cooking easily beats bought. Amongst numerous other successes, a roast turkey dinner to die for - or, at least, worth travelling 3,000 miles for!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Distilled fun
Went for a wander around the distillery district today with Paul/a. One of those cool "urban renewal" projects that takes a bunch of old Victorian warehouses and factories and regenerates it as a series of shops selling cool shit, and pubs.
We lunched at the Mill Street Brewpub, where they offer sampler trays for those who can't choose between the impressive array of beers, and/or don't have time for a "session." Each of these glasses is a third of a pint, so not only do they all slip down remarkably easily, but by the time you've emptied the tray you've had more than a pint; just about the perfect amount for lunchtime drinking. My tray included an IPA, and ESB, a raspberry fruit beer, and a pilsner (which I swapped for the Wit beer on Nikki's tray as she's not a huge fan of wheat beers).
Lunch was some kind of pulled beef sandwich with amazing BBQ sauce, the by-now traditional sweet potato fries and slaw, after which we staggered over to Soma Chocolate for a cup of Mayan chocolate.
Lunch was some kind of pulled beef sandwich with amazing BBQ sauce, the by-now traditional sweet potato fries and slaw, after which we staggered over to Soma Chocolate for a cup of Mayan chocolate.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Eating and Eaton
Latest in the series of awesome meals on this trip, which so far has consisted mainly of eating, sleeping and shopping, was yesterday's Easter Sunday dinner. A traditional family dinner to rival the Thanksgiving dinner we enjoyed on our last visit, this one featured the same cast and pretty much the same menu.
Roast turkey, homemade stuffing, garlic mash, sweet potatoes, peas, sprouts and carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy, followed up by three different kinds of cheesecake. I'm finding that it's getting easier to move after meals of this size, so much of the nutrition must be finding its way to my leg muscles.
Today we travelled into town on the street car, visited the Eaton Centre (more shopping) and lunched at Mr Greenjeans (more eating - here's our burgers and very yummy they were too, washed down with a couple of pints of Sleeman's Honey Brown) before travelling home again for a significantly simpler family meal, which was quite a relief after the massive indulgences of the last 3-4 days.
Roast turkey, homemade stuffing, garlic mash, sweet potatoes, peas, sprouts and carrots, cranberry sauce and gravy, followed up by three different kinds of cheesecake. I'm finding that it's getting easier to move after meals of this size, so much of the nutrition must be finding its way to my leg muscles.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Nice horsey
When I was a young lad - we're talking pre-teen (yes, my memory really is that good) - Saturdays could occasionally be really boring. If the boredom reached #8 or #9 on the scale, I might put the TV on and watch the afternoon sport, which in those days inevitably consisted mostly of horse racing.
It wasn't long before I discovered a talent for picking a winner, just by going on the name that appealed to me most. I can almost hear the experienced race-goers groaning at that, but this was years before I discovered that's a typical noob approach to racing and utterly frowned on by the cognoscenti.
Fast forward to Easter Sunday 2011 and here we are waiting for the turkey to cook and the guests to arrive, with one of Neil's favourite TV programmes hammering away in the corner: horse racing. And guess what, following immediately on the heels of my first win (I've already forgotten the name, but it was significant enough for me to pick it) comes Forever Awesome - chosen purely on the basis that its name is very similar to Forever Autumn, one of my favourite karaoke tracks of all time - and it's romping home by about five lengths.
So I've still not lost it. You can be 100% certain that if I were ever to start putting money on these nags, my gift would disappear as mysteriously as it came.
It wasn't long before I discovered a talent for picking a winner, just by going on the name that appealed to me most. I can almost hear the experienced race-goers groaning at that, but this was years before I discovered that's a typical noob approach to racing and utterly frowned on by the cognoscenti.
Fast forward to Easter Sunday 2011 and here we are waiting for the turkey to cook and the guests to arrive, with one of Neil's favourite TV programmes hammering away in the corner: horse racing. And guess what, following immediately on the heels of my first win (I've already forgotten the name, but it was significant enough for me to pick it) comes Forever Awesome - chosen purely on the basis that its name is very similar to Forever Autumn, one of my favourite karaoke tracks of all time - and it's romping home by about five lengths.
So I've still not lost it. You can be 100% certain that if I were ever to start putting money on these nags, my gift would disappear as mysteriously as it came.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
