Sometimes Fate comes along and whispers in your ear. If you don't listen, she goes away and, occasionally, comes back and belts you round the head with a rubber hammer until you pay attention. That's what she's done to us today. In our case, it was to do with the back door.
Our "back door" is a full height sliding window. To my eyes, it's inside out - the sliding window runs along the outside moving from left to right, whilst the fixed window on the right is on the inside. In Oz, the sliding window would run on the inside; on the outside, you'd have a sliding fly-wire screen door. (I have to confess, I have fantasised about replacing what we have with a Australian-style one, complete with screen door. Oh, how I'd love a fly-wire screen door to keep the bugs out.)
It has two locks. For the last year (ish), I've struggled closing the top lock. It was stiff, so I sprayed it with WD40. Strangely, the lock moved fine when it was away from the door jamb. After a couple of months, I think (the timeline is a bit hazy now), I worked out that the door needed to be slammed hard shut for that lock to work. At least once, earlier this week, I gave up fighting with the top lock and just locked the lower one.
Yesterday, we had a mid afternoon appointment so the builders had to lock up. Strangely, they left the top-lock's key in the lock, whereas the other one was hung up on its hook. This morning, I discovered why. They couldn't actually get the key disengaged from the lock. It was dark when we got back yesterday, so at 7am this morning I decided to water the vegetable garden. Only, I couldn't unlock the back door. Nor could I get the keys out. An hour or so later, DH succeeded. When we went out later, he locked up with a little bit of a struggle.
Obviously, at that stage, we weren't paying sufficient attention to Fate so she decided to step it up a gear. I noticed that the top of the door wasn't as closed as the bottom. Thus was born my first theory - that the door is hung inside out and the sliding door track is deteriorating in the weather. We covered the track in WD40 and hoped it'd be enough to keep the door working until we could get the builders to take a look at it. Wrong.
When the neighbour's BBQ smoke started drifting in this evening, we tried to close the door. And failed. Multiple times. Sometimes, it was as if a stop had been placed in the door maybe half an inch before the jamb. At other times, the door closed to within a millimetre or so of it's correct position - it looked closed but the lower lock wouldn't engage (we didn't bother to try the top lock). Overall, it was getting worse each time we tried shutting the door. We began to get a little panicky. We'd slam the door and it'd hit this invisible brake each time.
I watched DH as he absent mindedly bent down and tucked the outside rubber seal back against the glass. And that's when it hit me. The problem was caused by the inside rubber seal(!) at the point where the two windows are always crossed. I took a good look at it and it wasn't just sticking out of it's housing, it was dangling. D'oh! The seal was getting caught between the two windows and preventing the door moving further forward. (At this point, Fate put down her hammer.)
The challenge was to get the seal back between the window frame and the glass. 15 minutes of poking it with a ruler later, DH decided the only thing to do was to remove it. Problem. The seal was sticking out the other side of the door but, if he opened the door, it'd slip back behind the glass and be unreachable again. He climbed over the 6ft tall garden gate to get to it. It took another 10 minutes of poking and prodding before the seal was out and the door moving freely.
Right now, I'm sure Fate is polishing her hammer. The door is locked but the top lock still can't engage properly. We aren't sure what she's still trying to tell us. Do we need to rebuild the sill? Does the window need to be re-sealed professionally, rehung and rebalanced? Please don't tell us we need to replace the whole damn unit!
We'll throw ourselves on the mercy of the builders on Monday and hope they can work out what's wrong and how to fix it. I'm all out of inspiration.
- Pam
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Wednesday, 21 April 2010
Dear Blogger or the reason I've switched the comments to moderation
Dear Blogger
I am at my wits end. My blog keeps getting spammed via the comments. I have the word verification set up but that is not effective against manual spammers. I've repeatedly reported these spammers to you but they're like a hydra, cut off one and another takes its place. And there is no way to send you examples of what they're posting.
The format of the spam comments is always the same. A user ID in Chinese characters, followed by a nonsensical comment of, maybe, 20 words, followed by a hyperlink. Click on the hyperlink and you get a porn site. Here is the latest example:
Anyway, this is why I've changed my comments set up to "moderate comments".
- Pam
I am at my wits end. My blog keeps getting spammed via the comments. I have the word verification set up but that is not effective against manual spammers. I've repeatedly reported these spammers to you but they're like a hydra, cut off one and another takes its place. And there is no way to send you examples of what they're posting.
The format of the spam comments is always the same. A user ID in Chinese characters, followed by a nonsensical comment of, maybe, 20 words, followed by a hyperlink. Click on the hyperlink and you get a porn site. Here is the latest example:
王妍妮 has left a new comment on your post "Damn volcano":I've cut off the links, so don't bother clicking on them (no point giving them any more publicity). If you get comments like these, click on the user ID and the Blogger blog that they list there and then click on Report Abuse and follow the instructions. It doesn't allow you to report what is actually posted on your blog, but it is all you can do.
Knowledge is power...................................
Anyway, this is why I've changed my comments set up to "moderate comments".
- Pam
Saturday, 17 April 2010
Damn volcano
My favourite headline from the last couple of days is one from yesterday's Daily Express: "Britain is Shut to the World". To me, it ranks up there with a classic from The Times "Fog in Channel. Europe Isolated" (apparently published on 22nd October 1957 according to a quick search). Neither are true, of course.
The eruption of the Eyjafjallajoekull volcano has thrown a huge spanner in many people's plans for the weekend: three people from Site have had their holidays cancelled. My Dutch colleagues can't get home. My client's French staff can't go home. And my brother-in-law is marooned in Dusseldorf.
When it all kicked off on Thursday morning, it didn't occur to me that BIL would be affected. Surely the ash cloud would dissipate by mid-afternoon, or get washed out of the sky (this is Britain after all. It rains almost daily). But no. By the time I got back to my hotel on Thursday evening, having sat in an office full of Dutchmen and Frenchmen all day, I knew that all the ferries were booked out and Eurostar was probably fully booked, too. (One of my colleagues even contemplated driving the 750km home to Rotterdam, but couldn't secure a ticket on le Shuttle. ) I could only hope that BIL had managed to secure the Eurostar tickets we'd talked about on the phone on Thursday afternoon.
Sadly, he hadn't. And flights haven't resumed. Slowly, my plans for this weekend went up the Swannee. Since we're currently living in our bedroom and the kitchen, BIL couldn't stay with us, but we'd planned to spend all day today with him. The plan was to go to Portsmouth and tour the Royal Dockyard, hopefully getting there in time to secure a boat trip in the harbour this afternoon.
It's a bloody great shame. I was really looking forward to catching up with BIL. He's a lovely guy and we don't see him that often. We probably won't see him at all now - they've booked him a backup flight direct from Germany to Australia, for when flying resumes in Germany. He's holding out hope that if the flight to London goes first, he'll come here instead, but he's risking getting stuck here instead of having a guaranteed flight home.
Yah-boo-sucks you damn volcano!
- Pam (shaking an impotent fist at a clear-looking sky)
The eruption of the Eyjafjallajoekull volcano has thrown a huge spanner in many people's plans for the weekend: three people from Site have had their holidays cancelled. My Dutch colleagues can't get home. My client's French staff can't go home. And my brother-in-law is marooned in Dusseldorf.
When it all kicked off on Thursday morning, it didn't occur to me that BIL would be affected. Surely the ash cloud would dissipate by mid-afternoon, or get washed out of the sky (this is Britain after all. It rains almost daily). But no. By the time I got back to my hotel on Thursday evening, having sat in an office full of Dutchmen and Frenchmen all day, I knew that all the ferries were booked out and Eurostar was probably fully booked, too. (One of my colleagues even contemplated driving the 750km home to Rotterdam, but couldn't secure a ticket on le Shuttle. ) I could only hope that BIL had managed to secure the Eurostar tickets we'd talked about on the phone on Thursday afternoon.
Sadly, he hadn't. And flights haven't resumed. Slowly, my plans for this weekend went up the Swannee. Since we're currently living in our bedroom and the kitchen, BIL couldn't stay with us, but we'd planned to spend all day today with him. The plan was to go to Portsmouth and tour the Royal Dockyard, hopefully getting there in time to secure a boat trip in the harbour this afternoon.
It's a bloody great shame. I was really looking forward to catching up with BIL. He's a lovely guy and we don't see him that often. We probably won't see him at all now - they've booked him a backup flight direct from Germany to Australia, for when flying resumes in Germany. He's holding out hope that if the flight to London goes first, he'll come here instead, but he's risking getting stuck here instead of having a guaranteed flight home.
Yah-boo-sucks you damn volcano!
- Pam (shaking an impotent fist at a clear-looking sky)
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
The heart of the project
Deep in the centre of our construction project, my colleague Bernard took this photo. Behold, the heart of the refinery:
- Pam (photo used with permission)
- Pam (photo used with permission)
Saturday, 10 April 2010
At last the phoney war is over
In case you haven't heard, the date of the British General Election was announced on Tuesday, after Gordon Brown went to the Queen to request that she disolve parliament. The big day will be Thursday 6th May. And I can't wait. For the last six months or so, the political parties have been indulging in a "phoney war" - the political campaign you have when you can't call it an election campaign. (In Britain, the moment you call it an election campaign is the day the clock starts on the electoral expenses and each candidate has a legal maximum spending limit. The clock also starts if the candidates call themselves candidates or "parliamentary candidates" so they are known as "prospective parliamentary candidates" or "PPCs".)
Anyway, the phoney war has gone on so long that I am totally bored by it. Because of the rules regarding the life of a parliament, the election had to be held before mid-June. I don't know how the Americans put up with a year's worth of campaigning prior to their Presidential Elections. Don't you get fed up with it all?
It's not as if I'm a disinterested party, either. I think this is the first General Election when I haven't been involved in the campaign, one way or another. Once upon a time, I was a Young Conservative and a Conservative Party activist. My politics are a bit more confused than that, though. If you have to categorise me in terms of British politics, I'm a left-wing Tory or possibly a Lib-Dem. Back in the '80's, I voted for Bob Hawke, Australia's most successful Labor Prime Minister. If I was an American, I'd be a card carrying Democrat.
I joined the Tories when I came to the UK because my friends were Thatcherite Revolutionaries and it gave me an instant social life. Politics was fun and exciting as a YC: lots of intrigue against the "wets" in our own party; plenty of political debates about the big issues of the day (irony of ironies, in my day, the Tories didn't "do" political debates in the senior party); we put in the hours knocking on doors and delivering envelopes/magazines.
Many of my friends date from that time and very few of them are politically active today. What happened? We grew up. We got disilusioned and burned out. We got fed up campaigning for someone/some policy that we didn't believe in. There is nothing worse than the dying days of a government and our dying days lasted five years longer than expected (nobody had been more surprised than we were when John Major won the 1992 election. I remember being in a state of shock).
These days, I'm an interested outsider. The only times I've campaigned for anyone in the last 10 years is when I've supported one friend or another who has stood for their local council or for Parliament. Unless the phone rings, I think this will be the first General Election I haven't campaigned in since I came to Britain. (Note: I'd been here a week when I first went canvasing for the 1989 Euro elections, so I have a long history.)
Who do I think will be occupying 10 Downing Street in mid-May? Not Gordon Brown. He pissed off his natural electorate about two years ago, with his clumsily placed tax rises. He's been fighting a losing battle ever since. Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats, is putting up a credible campaign but it'd take a miracle for his party to win sufficient seats for them to even form Her Majesty's Opposition. So it's David Cameron's for the losing.
It's interesting to note that the Lib-Dems think Cameron will win. That's obvious from their arguments in various debates on BBC Newnight. They are only attacking the Tories; they aren't attacking policy announcements, etc, from the Government.
- Pam (don't think you'll get off lightly with me, David Cameron. I think your latest "tax break" of £3 a week for some married couples is risible, condescending and stupid.)
Anyway, the phoney war has gone on so long that I am totally bored by it. Because of the rules regarding the life of a parliament, the election had to be held before mid-June. I don't know how the Americans put up with a year's worth of campaigning prior to their Presidential Elections. Don't you get fed up with it all?
It's not as if I'm a disinterested party, either. I think this is the first General Election when I haven't been involved in the campaign, one way or another. Once upon a time, I was a Young Conservative and a Conservative Party activist. My politics are a bit more confused than that, though. If you have to categorise me in terms of British politics, I'm a left-wing Tory or possibly a Lib-Dem. Back in the '80's, I voted for Bob Hawke, Australia's most successful Labor Prime Minister. If I was an American, I'd be a card carrying Democrat.
I joined the Tories when I came to the UK because my friends were Thatcherite Revolutionaries and it gave me an instant social life. Politics was fun and exciting as a YC: lots of intrigue against the "wets" in our own party; plenty of political debates about the big issues of the day (irony of ironies, in my day, the Tories didn't "do" political debates in the senior party); we put in the hours knocking on doors and delivering envelopes/magazines.
Many of my friends date from that time and very few of them are politically active today. What happened? We grew up. We got disilusioned and burned out. We got fed up campaigning for someone/some policy that we didn't believe in. There is nothing worse than the dying days of a government and our dying days lasted five years longer than expected (nobody had been more surprised than we were when John Major won the 1992 election. I remember being in a state of shock).
These days, I'm an interested outsider. The only times I've campaigned for anyone in the last 10 years is when I've supported one friend or another who has stood for their local council or for Parliament. Unless the phone rings, I think this will be the first General Election I haven't campaigned in since I came to Britain. (Note: I'd been here a week when I first went canvasing for the 1989 Euro elections, so I have a long history.)
Who do I think will be occupying 10 Downing Street in mid-May? Not Gordon Brown. He pissed off his natural electorate about two years ago, with his clumsily placed tax rises. He's been fighting a losing battle ever since. Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats, is putting up a credible campaign but it'd take a miracle for his party to win sufficient seats for them to even form Her Majesty's Opposition. So it's David Cameron's for the losing.
It's interesting to note that the Lib-Dems think Cameron will win. That's obvious from their arguments in various debates on BBC Newnight. They are only attacking the Tories; they aren't attacking policy announcements, etc, from the Government.
- Pam (don't think you'll get off lightly with me, David Cameron. I think your latest "tax break" of £3 a week for some married couples is risible, condescending and stupid.)
Sunday, 4 April 2010
And finally
Yes, we now have central heating! The new boiler was connected on Thursday and the house is MUCH warmer.
- Pam
- Pam
To the man who built the wardrobe in our back bedroom
Why? What were you thinking? Was it your first ever carpentry project?
Oh, and why did you use so many screws to fix it together? Were you bollocked last time you built something - did it fall down(?) - so that you were afraid your missus would nag you to death if the wardrobe wasn't stable? Either that, or were you on a promise that if you used up every screw in the packet, you might be on to a "winner"? What else can explain the gazillion screws you used, whether suitable or not? Why else were there masonry screws holding two bits of wood together? Have a look at your handy work*:
Seriously, what were you thinking? Even on the fascias you used three screws of varying sizes and types, plus the odd nail and wood glue! And you fastened it to the floor, the brick wall, and the plasterboard ceiling.
It took us** two days to demolish this!
- Pam
* This photo was taken after the "easy" part of the wardrobe was demolished. Before we started, there were two long cupboards, plus the connecting cupboards across the top and assorted pine panels arranged on the wall between them all (the black marks are the screw holes for those). If you look closely at the remaining wardrobe, you can see the chicken-pox of plastic covers he used to cover up all the screws. There is no logic to the number of screws he used or the varieties he used - some were Philips-head, some were flat-head, some were masonry screws screwing two bits of wood together (huh?), some were wood screws (including wood screws anchoring panels into the wall, with and without rawlplugs) and a few were plasterboard screws fixing the wardrobe to the ceiling and to the floor. Sometimes he used two screws on the same joint. He also smothered virtually every join with wood-glue just in case. And threw in the odd nail for good measure.
** DH did most of the hard work. I did a lot of unscrewing and plenty of fetching and carrying.
Oh, and why did you use so many screws to fix it together? Were you bollocked last time you built something - did it fall down(?) - so that you were afraid your missus would nag you to death if the wardrobe wasn't stable? Either that, or were you on a promise that if you used up every screw in the packet, you might be on to a "winner"? What else can explain the gazillion screws you used, whether suitable or not? Why else were there masonry screws holding two bits of wood together? Have a look at your handy work*:
Seriously, what were you thinking? Even on the fascias you used three screws of varying sizes and types, plus the odd nail and wood glue! And you fastened it to the floor, the brick wall, and the plasterboard ceiling.
It took us** two days to demolish this!
- Pam
* This photo was taken after the "easy" part of the wardrobe was demolished. Before we started, there were two long cupboards, plus the connecting cupboards across the top and assorted pine panels arranged on the wall between them all (the black marks are the screw holes for those). If you look closely at the remaining wardrobe, you can see the chicken-pox of plastic covers he used to cover up all the screws. There is no logic to the number of screws he used or the varieties he used - some were Philips-head, some were flat-head, some were masonry screws screwing two bits of wood together (huh?), some were wood screws (including wood screws anchoring panels into the wall, with and without rawlplugs) and a few were plasterboard screws fixing the wardrobe to the ceiling and to the floor. Sometimes he used two screws on the same joint. He also smothered virtually every join with wood-glue just in case. And threw in the odd nail for good measure.
** DH did most of the hard work. I did a lot of unscrewing and plenty of fetching and carrying.
Sit-Rep 2010 - March
STASH: Maintained cold sheep. Did virtually no knitting however this month, so estimate less than half a skein (i.e. less than 50g) used up, for a total of 6.5-ish skeins. Knitting time was minimal and compromised by lack of light. Not sure how much longer we will be without overhead lighting - am considering getting some sort of headlamp to aid working on the Brown Cable Cardigan (the current lighting is too dim to see what I'm doing when I'm cabling - may need to resort to using a cable needle again). Any suggestions?
GARDEN: Planted out 6 of the 7 broad bean plants, as well as the earliest of the seed potatoes. Have also planted out 50+ onion sets, shallot sets and loads of garlic cloves. Will sow chill seeds, sweet/bell pepper seeds, butternut pumpkin seeds and courgette seeds this weekend, as well as another variety of potato. Bought a propagator. Had to obtain extra tyres for the potatoes because 7 of last year's 8 tyres are holding down a tarpaulin on the kitchen roof (to prevent leaks).
OVERDRAFT: £108.83 repaid, for a total repaid of £355.38.
FITNESS: Five sessions of Pilates and three sessions of yoga attended. Rejoined Weight Watchers - walked to meeting once. 4 meetings attended. No miles run. Pounds lost = 4lb for a total of 6lb.
SOCKS: 3/4 of one sock completed for DH in Weird Science pattern from Yarn Forward. Next month should be better - BIL is coming to UK mid-April, so decided to whip up a pair of DK-weight socks for Eldest Sis (his wife) for him to deliver to her on her birthday at end of April. Have chosen simple pattern, the Zig-Zag Socks pattern by Jocelyn Sertich. Using stash yarn: Cherry Tree Hills Superwash Merino DK in the Cabin Fever colourway. Photos to follow.
- Pam
GARDEN: Planted out 6 of the 7 broad bean plants, as well as the earliest of the seed potatoes. Have also planted out 50+ onion sets, shallot sets and loads of garlic cloves. Will sow chill seeds, sweet/bell pepper seeds, butternut pumpkin seeds and courgette seeds this weekend, as well as another variety of potato. Bought a propagator. Had to obtain extra tyres for the potatoes because 7 of last year's 8 tyres are holding down a tarpaulin on the kitchen roof (to prevent leaks).
OVERDRAFT: £108.83 repaid, for a total repaid of £355.38.
FITNESS: Five sessions of Pilates and three sessions of yoga attended. Rejoined Weight Watchers - walked to meeting once. 4 meetings attended. No miles run. Pounds lost = 4lb for a total of 6lb.
SOCKS: 3/4 of one sock completed for DH in Weird Science pattern from Yarn Forward. Next month should be better - BIL is coming to UK mid-April, so decided to whip up a pair of DK-weight socks for Eldest Sis (his wife) for him to deliver to her on her birthday at end of April. Have chosen simple pattern, the Zig-Zag Socks pattern by Jocelyn Sertich. Using stash yarn: Cherry Tree Hills Superwash Merino DK in the Cabin Fever colourway. Photos to follow.
- Pam
Wednesday, 31 March 2010
Another whine about feeling cold
It's cold. We have no heating and haven't had since Monday morning, when the old boiler was removed. It's so cold that when I zapped some rock-hard coconut oil in order to soften it so that I could make coconut rough, it returned to rock-hard in the 20 minutes it took to eat dinner.
I know the weather here is relatively mild compared to some parts of the world but our houses aren't designed to cope without some form of heating. And it's turned decidedly wintry in the last week (it's snowed above 200 metres). We have the added disadvantage of several small holes in the walls downstairs creating a gazillion drafts. I've lived in cold houses before - my first two permanent homes in the UK didn't have central heating - however I'd forgotten what it was like. Both of those properties had some form of heating, just not in every room. Not here. Not now. Not until (hopefully) tomorrow.
The new boiler is "in" but it hasn't, yet, been connected to the gas. Almost all the new radiators are in position (the ones that aren't have to wait until after the new kitchen is installed).
I can't wait. Whilst running hot water would be nice, warm rooms would be lovely! (We have an electric power shower so are able to have hot showers, but everything else requires boiling the kettle.)
- Pam
PS: Don't worry - the tiles, etc, are still getting the chop.
I know the weather here is relatively mild compared to some parts of the world but our houses aren't designed to cope without some form of heating. And it's turned decidedly wintry in the last week (it's snowed above 200 metres). We have the added disadvantage of several small holes in the walls downstairs creating a gazillion drafts. I've lived in cold houses before - my first two permanent homes in the UK didn't have central heating - however I'd forgotten what it was like. Both of those properties had some form of heating, just not in every room. Not here. Not now. Not until (hopefully) tomorrow.
The new boiler is "in" but it hasn't, yet, been connected to the gas. Almost all the new radiators are in position (the ones that aren't have to wait until after the new kitchen is installed).
I can't wait. Whilst running hot water would be nice, warm rooms would be lovely! (We have an electric power shower so are able to have hot showers, but everything else requires boiling the kettle.)
- Pam
PS: Don't worry - the tiles, etc, are still getting the chop.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Photos
It's been a hellish week, very busy and very exhausting. Today, I was up at 4.45am in order to catch the shuttle to Glasgow. I got home at 7pm. Anyway, enough of me moaning. Here is what you really want - photos of the house!
Here are some before photos of the lounge taken when it was being used as a temporary resting place for stuff on the way to the storage locker. This is the view towards the front window. Note the cork tiles on the chimney breast and the suspended ceiling with the huge (useless) spot-lights.
And the view towards the kitchen:
The piano was the last piece of furniture to be moved. It's being stored by specialist piano movers.
On the left, you can just see the platform that was built over the floor where the original kitchen was until the '70's. And one of the brick feature walls. (Yes, that is the current kitchen through those doors.) Did I mention that we think the old owners used that space as a bar area? Seems logical when you look at it.
The only thing that is missing is the 1970's padded bar. This is what was behind all those bricks:
They're all gone now, along with the tiles you can see. So is the suspended ceiling (hello floorboards!). I think the paint you can see is original, dating from 1939. If you look closely, you can see the line of the old picture rails and, higher up, the line where the suspended ceiling was attached.
We've also kissed good-bye to the cork tiles on the chimney:
The pipes are from the back boiler, which will be removed next week together with the gas fire. (I want to install a wood-fire stove but we'll have to save up for that.)
The last big change is to the lounge room door. On the left, is the doorway we're filling in. It dates from the '70's. On the right, is the original doorway, which we've opened up again. The plan is to put the sofa in front of this wall but we're now worried it'll be too long.
- Pam
Here are some before photos of the lounge taken when it was being used as a temporary resting place for stuff on the way to the storage locker. This is the view towards the front window. Note the cork tiles on the chimney breast and the suspended ceiling with the huge (useless) spot-lights.
And the view towards the kitchen:
The piano was the last piece of furniture to be moved. It's being stored by specialist piano movers.
On the left, you can just see the platform that was built over the floor where the original kitchen was until the '70's. And one of the brick feature walls. (Yes, that is the current kitchen through those doors.) Did I mention that we think the old owners used that space as a bar area? Seems logical when you look at it.
The only thing that is missing is the 1970's padded bar. This is what was behind all those bricks:
We've also kissed good-bye to the cork tiles on the chimney:
The last big change is to the lounge room door. On the left, is the doorway we're filling in. It dates from the '70's. On the right, is the original doorway, which we've opened up again. The plan is to put the sofa in front of this wall but we're now worried it'll be too long.
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
OMG! It's finally happening!
For the last 6.5 years, DH and I have schemed, planned and saved for today. We've daydreamed and wished. We've said, "If I had the money then I'd....." before running off a wish list. Finally, the great day is here - the builders started work this morning. The downstairs of our house is being renovated!
Sadly, I don't currently have any "before" photos to show you. I attempted to take some yesterday morning, before I left for Site, only to discover that the camera's battery was flat and the backup battery was also flat. DH has taken some photos of the empty/almost empty rooms, but I won't get those until I get home on Friday.
I think I've mentioned before that ours is a typical 1930's semi-detached house, which was renovated in the 1970's. Although it is orientated on the opposite side, the original floor plan was similar to this one.
It's not exact, but I couldn't find anything closer on-line tonight. The front is at the bottom of the screen. The previous owners knocked the front reception room through into the back reception room, then took out the wall between that and the kitchen, before building a kitchen extension on the back. They moved the lounge door to next to the front wall and closed off the back of the hall, inserting a laundry area into it which is accessed via the lounge and the old kitchen doorway. The other doorways were blocked off. We think they used the old kitchen area into a bar. (Think "Abigail's Party".) The floor is covered with a platform, brick feature walls covered the two sides with mirror tiles on the third. Their final "innovation" is a suspended ceiling, containing 9 huge spot-lights.
When we purchased the house, we said we'd started a 25 year project. We knew it needed a lot of work done - the kitchen's flat roof was gradually deteriorating, the wiring was not up to current building codes, the aging boiler was on it's way out. Oh, and it has the most God-awful avocado bathroom suite. But we didn't have the money to do anything except live in the house and learn it's ways. There was never any storage. Most of the kitchen cupboards were falling apart. We couldn't unpack our wedding presents because there was nowhere to put them, and we didn't want to buy more furniture when we knew we'd have to move it out in order to do the building work. (We've spent the last two weeks clearing everything out and putting it into storage: moving furniture, packing up all the books, boxing up the stash, etc. It's amazing how stuff breeds!)
Everything is changing. Gone is the suspended ceiling. The brick feature walls are partially dismantled and DH is happy to report that none of them were load bearing; they ended at the suspended ceiling. The platform will be removed shortly. The laundry area will be converted into a downstairs toilet, with access from the hall instead of the lounge. New lights and new power-points will be installed throughout the house. The central heating will be replaced, with a new "combi" boiler installed in the kitchen (just as well, some of the old radiators have stopped working). Sometime next month, when the weather is better, the kitchen roof will be removed and replaced with a pitched, tile roof (goodbye leaking roof! Goodbye buckets!). At the same time, a new kitchen will be installed., including a wall of floor to ceiling cupboards. After nearly 7 years, it's finally happening.
Apparently, the old kitchen had red tiles. I can't wait to see them.
- Pam
Sadly, I don't currently have any "before" photos to show you. I attempted to take some yesterday morning, before I left for Site, only to discover that the camera's battery was flat and the backup battery was also flat. DH has taken some photos of the empty/almost empty rooms, but I won't get those until I get home on Friday.
I think I've mentioned before that ours is a typical 1930's semi-detached house, which was renovated in the 1970's. Although it is orientated on the opposite side, the original floor plan was similar to this one.
When we purchased the house, we said we'd started a 25 year project. We knew it needed a lot of work done - the kitchen's flat roof was gradually deteriorating, the wiring was not up to current building codes, the aging boiler was on it's way out. Oh, and it has the most God-awful avocado bathroom suite. But we didn't have the money to do anything except live in the house and learn it's ways. There was never any storage. Most of the kitchen cupboards were falling apart. We couldn't unpack our wedding presents because there was nowhere to put them, and we didn't want to buy more furniture when we knew we'd have to move it out in order to do the building work. (We've spent the last two weeks clearing everything out and putting it into storage: moving furniture, packing up all the books, boxing up the stash, etc. It's amazing how stuff breeds!)
Everything is changing. Gone is the suspended ceiling. The brick feature walls are partially dismantled and DH is happy to report that none of them were load bearing; they ended at the suspended ceiling. The platform will be removed shortly. The laundry area will be converted into a downstairs toilet, with access from the hall instead of the lounge. New lights and new power-points will be installed throughout the house. The central heating will be replaced, with a new "combi" boiler installed in the kitchen (just as well, some of the old radiators have stopped working). Sometime next month, when the weather is better, the kitchen roof will be removed and replaced with a pitched, tile roof (goodbye leaking roof! Goodbye buckets!). At the same time, a new kitchen will be installed., including a wall of floor to ceiling cupboards. After nearly 7 years, it's finally happening.
Apparently, the old kitchen had red tiles. I can't wait to see them.
- Pam
Friday, 12 March 2010
Reason for dieting #27
Wearing stockings and suspenders makes you feel like a tourniquet has been applied to your waist.
Seriously? I was contemplating wearing a skirt to work earlier this week when I realised it needed stockings and that I couldn't get away with just wearing my boots. I tried on three pairs of suspenders before I gave up and chose to wear something else. Felt like I was being squeezed in half.
( I don't do pantyhose - I'm on the sizing cusp and they're either always too short (nothing worse than the crotch being 1-2 inches below your real one - it'll rub) or far too long and bag around the ankles.)
- Pam
Seriously? I was contemplating wearing a skirt to work earlier this week when I realised it needed stockings and that I couldn't get away with just wearing my boots. I tried on three pairs of suspenders before I gave up and chose to wear something else. Felt like I was being squeezed in half.
( I don't do pantyhose - I'm on the sizing cusp and they're either always too short (nothing worse than the crotch being 1-2 inches below your real one - it'll rub) or far too long and bag around the ankles.)
- Pam
Monday, 8 March 2010
Monday Meanderings
This morning was a contrast of brilliant sunshine and bitterly cold winds. The ice made a feather and fan pattern on the Toy's windows before I scraped it off. At 7.30am, the weather bulletin report the temperature as -2C in Central London. They don't quote wind-chill here but I reckon it's effect is to drop the temperature by at least another 5 degrees.
It's days like these when you remember that Britain is an island and nowhere is more than fifty miles from the sea. The air is damp, driving the cold right through you. It's a windswept island, too, with icy air blowing in from the Atlantic.
The sunlight is deceptive. There is some warmth in it, but not enough to heat the air. You can only feel it if you are out of the wind. And yet, at every opportunity, I turn my face to greet the sun. If this was ancient Greece, then I would worship Apollo. As an Australian, I am a child of the sun. My earliest memories are of long, hot summer days.
Today I understand all those ancient ceremonies to welcome the return of Spring.
==================
Another economists joke:
Is there any other profession where you can be wrong most of the time, but still be considered an expert?
==================
Tonight, the choir started rehearsing for our next concert on 22nd May. Our conductor's verdict on the African Sanctus is that it was too loud (David Fanshawe got a bit too carried away with playing with the levels). However, he was really, really pleased with our performance, particularly as we caught up when the Soprano Soloist skipped a page!
Probably the next choir priority is finding a bigger local venue (something I mentioned at last AGM). We turned away 40 people on Saturday night and could easily have sold 500 tickets instead of the 350 that is the church's capacity. Our next concert will be in a much larger venue, the Cadogan Hall in Chelsea, which seats 700. It is, however, a much more expensive venue, so we can only afford it once a year.
- Pam
It's days like these when you remember that Britain is an island and nowhere is more than fifty miles from the sea. The air is damp, driving the cold right through you. It's a windswept island, too, with icy air blowing in from the Atlantic.
The sunlight is deceptive. There is some warmth in it, but not enough to heat the air. You can only feel it if you are out of the wind. And yet, at every opportunity, I turn my face to greet the sun. If this was ancient Greece, then I would worship Apollo. As an Australian, I am a child of the sun. My earliest memories are of long, hot summer days.
Today I understand all those ancient ceremonies to welcome the return of Spring.
==================
Another economists joke:
Is there any other profession where you can be wrong most of the time, but still be considered an expert?
==================
Tonight, the choir started rehearsing for our next concert on 22nd May. Our conductor's verdict on the African Sanctus is that it was too loud (David Fanshawe got a bit too carried away with playing with the levels). However, he was really, really pleased with our performance, particularly as we caught up when the Soprano Soloist skipped a page!
Probably the next choir priority is finding a bigger local venue (something I mentioned at last AGM). We turned away 40 people on Saturday night and could easily have sold 500 tickets instead of the 350 that is the church's capacity. Our next concert will be in a much larger venue, the Cadogan Hall in Chelsea, which seats 700. It is, however, a much more expensive venue, so we can only afford it once a year.
- Pam
Sunday, 7 March 2010
In the Presence of Genius
Last night, I sang in a performance of David Fanshawe's African Sanctus. I If you are unfamiliar with the African Sanctus, there is a small sampler available on the website - it's well worth a listen.
My introduction to the African Sanctus is probably the most unusual introduction to a Latin mass that you'll ever have. In 1984, it was performed at the Perth Intervarsity Choral Festival, just before I joined the Melbourne University Choral Society. At a party, three or four months later, someone put on a recording of the African Sanctus and, suddenly, I was surrounded by a swirl of singing and dancing choristers! I was enchanted. And hooked.
I had to wait five years before I got the chance to sing it at the Melbourne Minifest 1989. As far as I am concerned, it is the best piece of modern choral music written in my lifetime. There is nothing else like it. It is almost impossible not to dance to the Finale, when the Sanctus is sung repeatedly across 8 pages of score. And when you have 150 voices on a stage in the Robert Blackwood Hall plus drums, it can blow your mind away.
Last night was different but incredibly special in its own way. First the differences - in 1989, I sang first First Soprano, right at the top of my register (C# anyone?); last night, I sang second Second Soprano, partially because someone had to do it and partially because my absolute top notes appear to have been left behind in Australia so these days I sing Second Sop (I struggle to get a B now). Swapping parts when you know a piece is one of the hardest things I have ever done. At one point last night, I gave up - I couldn't hear the Seconds (it was my turn to be rotated to the back row) - so I went with the part I knew best. Hello, Firsts, here I come!
The other main difference was the venue. Robert Blackwood Hall is a big, purpose built concert venue seating nearly 1500. Last night's church is a 1920's barn-shaped building, seating 350. I think (and DH agrees) it was overpowered by the music.
And the final difference was the choir size. ECS has between 80 and 90 active members. Last night, I think we'd have been lucky if we got 60 on stage. I'm not sure if the pressure of the rehearsal timetable (8, I think) got to some of the old biddies or they didn't like the music. Certainly, it's not an easy piece to rehearse because of all the interspersed tapes of African music. Oh, and did I mention that even Second Second Soprano is high? As in top B high?
But the thing that makes last night special is that it was very much David Fanshawe's performance. Not only was the composer present - he gave an introductory talk about the African Sanctus - he'd spent the day work-shopping with us and ran the sound desk for the concert. All day yesterday, during breaks in the singing, he'd throw in comments drawing out one part or another to change the balance, explaining why certain pieces sound the way they do and demonstrating the sound he wanted from us (as well as his normal singing voice (tenor?) he has the most amazingly operatic falsetto soprano). He also gave us the history behind the movements, explaining where he was when he composed them and what inspired them.
It was a privilege to work with David Fanshawe yesterday. He's quite a modest man, self-effacing and a little bit shy. And he's a bit eccentric ("mad as a spoon" as DH put it). But, when it comes to his music, he is such a big presence. He was really pleased with our performance last night, taking his bow last night with a big smile and then telling us "well done!". Afterwards, he kindly signed my score.
- Pam
My introduction to the African Sanctus is probably the most unusual introduction to a Latin mass that you'll ever have. In 1984, it was performed at the Perth Intervarsity Choral Festival, just before I joined the Melbourne University Choral Society. At a party, three or four months later, someone put on a recording of the African Sanctus and, suddenly, I was surrounded by a swirl of singing and dancing choristers! I was enchanted. And hooked.
I had to wait five years before I got the chance to sing it at the Melbourne Minifest 1989. As far as I am concerned, it is the best piece of modern choral music written in my lifetime. There is nothing else like it. It is almost impossible not to dance to the Finale, when the Sanctus is sung repeatedly across 8 pages of score. And when you have 150 voices on a stage in the Robert Blackwood Hall plus drums, it can blow your mind away.
Last night was different but incredibly special in its own way. First the differences - in 1989, I sang first First Soprano, right at the top of my register (C# anyone?); last night, I sang second Second Soprano, partially because someone had to do it and partially because my absolute top notes appear to have been left behind in Australia so these days I sing Second Sop (I struggle to get a B now). Swapping parts when you know a piece is one of the hardest things I have ever done. At one point last night, I gave up - I couldn't hear the Seconds (it was my turn to be rotated to the back row) - so I went with the part I knew best. Hello, Firsts, here I come!
The other main difference was the venue. Robert Blackwood Hall is a big, purpose built concert venue seating nearly 1500. Last night's church is a 1920's barn-shaped building, seating 350. I think (and DH agrees) it was overpowered by the music.
And the final difference was the choir size. ECS has between 80 and 90 active members. Last night, I think we'd have been lucky if we got 60 on stage. I'm not sure if the pressure of the rehearsal timetable (8, I think) got to some of the old biddies or they didn't like the music. Certainly, it's not an easy piece to rehearse because of all the interspersed tapes of African music. Oh, and did I mention that even Second Second Soprano is high? As in top B high?
But the thing that makes last night special is that it was very much David Fanshawe's performance. Not only was the composer present - he gave an introductory talk about the African Sanctus - he'd spent the day work-shopping with us and ran the sound desk for the concert. All day yesterday, during breaks in the singing, he'd throw in comments drawing out one part or another to change the balance, explaining why certain pieces sound the way they do and demonstrating the sound he wanted from us (as well as his normal singing voice (tenor?) he has the most amazingly operatic falsetto soprano). He also gave us the history behind the movements, explaining where he was when he composed them and what inspired them.
It was a privilege to work with David Fanshawe yesterday. He's quite a modest man, self-effacing and a little bit shy. And he's a bit eccentric ("mad as a spoon" as DH put it). But, when it comes to his music, he is such a big presence. He was really pleased with our performance last night, taking his bow last night with a big smile and then telling us "well done!". Afterwards, he kindly signed my score.
- Pam
Monday, 1 March 2010
To my American Grandmother
I'm sorry, Nanna, but I was cheering on the Canadians last night when we watched the Ice Hockey. The romance of the Canadians winning the gold on home soil was too much to resist.
- Pam (contrite)
- Pam (contrite)
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