So near, yet so far. We are so close to finishing this build. The architect thinks about another week but there appears to be so much yet to do. Finish the kitchen, lay three floors, complete the electrics, fit a Juliette balcony and so on. Lots of things and people that need to come together to finish a job.
We are fed up. We are fed up of living in a dusty mess where we can't find anything. We want to cook a meal, sit down at a table to eat it and then plunge onto a sofa and watch TV like we used to 14 weeks ago. People are lovely though and tell us it will all be worth it in the end. And it will.
The builder has had another job on this week and we feel left in limbo with fingers and toes crossed he will give us his undivided attention next week. He hasn't let us down thus far but I have learnt quite slowly over this project that successful builders appear to be successful builders because they can spin a tale. I call it BSing.....being 'blooming silly' but perhaps you can think of another term that fits.
We do now have an oven that works. But even the promise of buns hasn't lured the builder back. There is always painting to do as we have elected to do the decorating. I have become an expert on the mist coat: the layer of paint that goes on new plaster to seal it. I fear I will be dreaming soon about brushes and paint and misquotes and amorphous overcoats. Alas and woe is us but what we can do is have a hot luxurious bath and a refreshing power shower. Yes the bathroom is finished....hooray....oh apart from the fact it hasn't got a door nor skirting boards nor a radiator that works.
Friday, 13 September 2013
Monday, 9 September 2013
M25 smugness
I listen to Radio 2 now and then. Ergo I listen to endless national traffic reports. Ergo I hear a lot about the M25 and the stationary traffic thereon. Inevitably there is always a report about this motorway winding around London. Traffic isn't moving anti-clockwise, cars are at a standstill, there is very heavy congestion moving at a snail's pace clockwise. It's attained a kind of mythical status in my mind of a ribbon of cars encircling London that just don't move. You drive on to it at your peril as you'll be stuck there forever circling round and round such is its image in my mind.
This last weekend David and I travelled 520 miles to Kent and back. We had to travel on the M25. I don't mind confessing as we approached this legendary road, I was slightly nervous to be meeting it. Why would anyone join the M25 just to be stuck in a queue? Would we indeed have to sit on it as I anticipated? Would we be part of the slow moving snail travelling anti-clockwise?
Of course we had Radio 2 on in the car to keep us abreast of the current M25 situation as we approached this circular highway at 5.30pm on a Friday evening. Surely as M25 virgins we would meet heavy congestion during this last rush hour before the weekend. I drove on to it from the east, going in an anti-clockwise direction at about 6pm and we held our metaphorical breadths. About an hour and a half later - hallelujah - we had endured no tailbacks, no jams and were off it. We felt relieved, spilling over into smugness as we cheered when Junction 5 appeared with no queues having been endured.
We were very lucky. Our friends who tried to join the M25 to the north of London at the same time as us were not so happy. They ended up in a three hour standing queue. They could have set up camp at the side of the motorway and phoned for a take away (delivered perhaps by scooter driving madly down the hard shoulder). The motorway was closed with them on it due to a suspicious man and package. Oh dear such was their frustration and despondency that when they did get going again they just turned their backs on the M25 and went back home and did not rendezvous with us at our final destination.
We took on the legendary M25 and we won.....some of us anyway.
PS More about our final destination in Kent in a later post - suffice it to say it was a towering experience (a clue there).
This last weekend David and I travelled 520 miles to Kent and back. We had to travel on the M25. I don't mind confessing as we approached this legendary road, I was slightly nervous to be meeting it. Why would anyone join the M25 just to be stuck in a queue? Would we indeed have to sit on it as I anticipated? Would we be part of the slow moving snail travelling anti-clockwise?
Of course we had Radio 2 on in the car to keep us abreast of the current M25 situation as we approached this circular highway at 5.30pm on a Friday evening. Surely as M25 virgins we would meet heavy congestion during this last rush hour before the weekend. I drove on to it from the east, going in an anti-clockwise direction at about 6pm and we held our metaphorical breadths. About an hour and a half later - hallelujah - we had endured no tailbacks, no jams and were off it. We felt relieved, spilling over into smugness as we cheered when Junction 5 appeared with no queues having been endured.
We were very lucky. Our friends who tried to join the M25 to the north of London at the same time as us were not so happy. They ended up in a three hour standing queue. They could have set up camp at the side of the motorway and phoned for a take away (delivered perhaps by scooter driving madly down the hard shoulder). The motorway was closed with them on it due to a suspicious man and package. Oh dear such was their frustration and despondency that when they did get going again they just turned their backs on the M25 and went back home and did not rendezvous with us at our final destination.
We took on the legendary M25 and we won.....some of us anyway.
PS More about our final destination in Kent in a later post - suffice it to say it was a towering experience (a clue there).
Friday, 6 September 2013
Blackberry picking
I love picking blackberries. Get my dish and off I go to find a blackberry bush. This year they are the juiciest for a good few years. It's so satisfying picking free fruit and then making them into crumbles, pies and jam. This year I'm having to freeze before use as we still have no kitchen.
I must admit it's also quite a sad time this year. I have always blackberried 'at home' on the farm. I knew where all the best blackberry bushes were but this year there is no 'home'. My mum's house was sold in February and I guess this annual blackberry hunt has had to change location. As a child I always knew when the blackberries were ripe as my Auntie Mary and family would turn up from Sheffield to pick them. One year she fell into a blackberry bush - I could show you which one. Even my Dad would sometimes grab a little pan after working on the farm and fill it to the brim with succulent berries. These were usually made into a pie or stewed with the late addition of golden syrup by my mum.
My mission is to go out every day and fill a container until they end. Of course I must stop on Oct 1st for by then the devil will have got the little black berries. Rural folklore or is it just plain sensible not to pick berries passed their best?
I must admit it's also quite a sad time this year. I have always blackberried 'at home' on the farm. I knew where all the best blackberry bushes were but this year there is no 'home'. My mum's house was sold in February and I guess this annual blackberry hunt has had to change location. As a child I always knew when the blackberries were ripe as my Auntie Mary and family would turn up from Sheffield to pick them. One year she fell into a blackberry bush - I could show you which one. Even my Dad would sometimes grab a little pan after working on the farm and fill it to the brim with succulent berries. These were usually made into a pie or stewed with the late addition of golden syrup by my mum.
My mission is to go out every day and fill a container until they end. Of course I must stop on Oct 1st for by then the devil will have got the little black berries. Rural folklore or is it just plain sensible not to pick berries passed their best?
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Hula hooping away
Can you hula hoop? I used to be able to do it. But alas now I cannot. My daughter is a genius at it. She can hula hoop for hours and amuse us walking around doing her hula hoop chicken walk.
My husband has tried and he can't. We've had all sorts of theories to justify why we can't do it. Our centre of gravity is different? The hula hoop isn't big enough? There's too much in the way when you are a grown woman (my excuse of course)! And when it's all too much we have sulkily taken our hula hoop home with us and been heard to mutter why would we want to hula hoop anyway? I fear we just can't hula hoop it.
We once saw an act which consisted of a woman just hula hooping. It was mesmerizing. She could hula hoop round every part of her body and with multi hula hoops. She definitely had skills.
Off to practice now.
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Rapunzel Diaries 5: Hereford Cathedral Tower
What do most churches have? Answer: towers. They are a very good source for tower climbing especially in September when quite a few churches open up their towers for the Heritage Open Weekend. Cathedrals often have tours of their magnificent perpendicular lofty regions throughout the year. We've just been on holiday to Herefordshire and am happy to report that Hereford Cathedral had a tower tour on that I and my children couldn't resist. The other five members of our party did decline to climb up though - funny folks!
Hereford Cathedral used to have two towers but the western one collapsed in the 18th century but we were willing to risk a climb of the 218 steps up the existing one. With cathedral climbs you get to see the building from the inside and from different perspectives. We got to walk across the ceiling and see it from the inside and view the cathedral down from the Lantern gallery appreciating the mosaic floors and the scale of the church. It is truly amazing when you contemplate that this building dates from the 11th century. How did they do it?
The reward is superb views of the Brecon Beacons, Malvern Hills and Herefordshire but the fascinating aspect is looking down on Hereford itself and seeing the gardens and nooks and crannies you just don't know or imagine exist.
Anyway we knew we had to descend again when we shouted down to David and our friends (sorry we broke the cloistered silence with 'Oi we're up here, you lot') and were greeted with fingers pointing at watches and then mouths. How could they favour lunch over a tower adventure...those perpendicularly challenged heathens.
Hereford Cathedral used to have two towers but the western one collapsed in the 18th century but we were willing to risk a climb of the 218 steps up the existing one. With cathedral climbs you get to see the building from the inside and from different perspectives. We got to walk across the ceiling and see it from the inside and view the cathedral down from the Lantern gallery appreciating the mosaic floors and the scale of the church. It is truly amazing when you contemplate that this building dates from the 11th century. How did they do it?
The reward is superb views of the Brecon Beacons, Malvern Hills and Herefordshire but the fascinating aspect is looking down on Hereford itself and seeing the gardens and nooks and crannies you just don't know or imagine exist.
Anyway we knew we had to descend again when we shouted down to David and our friends (sorry we broke the cloistered silence with 'Oi we're up here, you lot') and were greeted with fingers pointing at watches and then mouths. How could they favour lunch over a tower adventure...those perpendicularly challenged heathens.
Wednesday, 28 August 2013
The Build:Week 12
We came back from holiday at the weekend to no kitchen and no bathroom. I kinda nearly cried but instead decided to laugh. It was just one of those things. Lots of work had been going on but we had no sinks, no hot water. After having two showers a day on holiday - well you've got to make hay while the sun shines and makes you sweaty and smelly - it's been a bit of a comedown.
No fear the next day we had hot water, no sink downstairs and a sink with hot water upstairs. We even had the family party care of my brother and partner who catered magnificently sans kitchen.
The next day I set about painting the bathroom in readiness for... well.. a bathroom. We are not people who spend days fretting over colour charts and deciding on hues and shades so I went to the paint shop and grabbed a tin of paint in soft steel which I thought would look good with the anthracite sink unit we have chosen. It does look great on the walls without anything in the room but whether it goes with the units we have no idea.
A bathroom with joy of joys a shower, wonders of wonders a bath, a rather useful sink and a clean and dust free toilet is materialising before our eyes as I write. We can't wait.
No fear the next day we had hot water, no sink downstairs and a sink with hot water upstairs. We even had the family party care of my brother and partner who catered magnificently sans kitchen.
A bathroom with joy of joys a shower, wonders of wonders a bath, a rather useful sink and a clean and dust free toilet is materialising before our eyes as I write. We can't wait.
Monday, 26 August 2013
About a photo with no photo
My brother bought me an Olympus Trip camera for my 18th birthday back in the year dot. Ever since photos have been hugely important to me as a means of recording my life.
An essential element of that photographic diary is the annual family photo. I have a record of what our family has looked like for the last 30 years. The original has my parents, my brothers and me - just the five of us. At full strength now we can be fifteen plus. Of course we have a party at the same time. We eat, we drink, we catch up, we play games, we have a photo taken.
The latest snapshot taken yesterday has my siblings, nieces, nephew, my children, partners. We gather in a group and the self timer is pressed on the camera and I run into position. Been doing that at the annual family party now for nearly three decades. It's rather wonderful and poignant to look back on the early photos and see what we all looked like (was I really that thin) as well as taking a long reflective sigh on seeing the loved ones no longer here. I think my Dad loved being at the centre of the photo, head of the clan. My Mum is still on it in spirit. She won't leave the old people's home because of bad knees and we can't quite organise ourselves to gather altogether at the home for the photo. Don't worry she has a steady stream of relatives from morning to evening on the day of the family photo.
One year we tried to be a little different and take a panoramic shot of the family all lined up youngest (left) to oldest (right). I don't think the family members on the right liked being ...well...on the right so we now just gather into a group, all mixed up.
I am now quite obsessed with group photos. At a party, at Sunday lunch, at a play over, on a camping trip I gather everyone together for my photo record. It's tradition.
I could publish the family photo here but we are quite shy so you'll have to settle for a blog post about a photo without a photo.
An essential element of that photographic diary is the annual family photo. I have a record of what our family has looked like for the last 30 years. The original has my parents, my brothers and me - just the five of us. At full strength now we can be fifteen plus. Of course we have a party at the same time. We eat, we drink, we catch up, we play games, we have a photo taken.
The latest snapshot taken yesterday has my siblings, nieces, nephew, my children, partners. We gather in a group and the self timer is pressed on the camera and I run into position. Been doing that at the annual family party now for nearly three decades. It's rather wonderful and poignant to look back on the early photos and see what we all looked like (was I really that thin) as well as taking a long reflective sigh on seeing the loved ones no longer here. I think my Dad loved being at the centre of the photo, head of the clan. My Mum is still on it in spirit. She won't leave the old people's home because of bad knees and we can't quite organise ourselves to gather altogether at the home for the photo. Don't worry she has a steady stream of relatives from morning to evening on the day of the family photo.
One year we tried to be a little different and take a panoramic shot of the family all lined up youngest (left) to oldest (right). I don't think the family members on the right liked being ...well...on the right so we now just gather into a group, all mixed up.
I am now quite obsessed with group photos. At a party, at Sunday lunch, at a play over, on a camping trip I gather everyone together for my photo record. It's tradition.
I could publish the family photo here but we are quite shy so you'll have to settle for a blog post about a photo without a photo.
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