Friday 24 June 2011

Suddenly, we're nearly finished

The Scent of the Past?

I had my first slightly spooky experience in the house this week. I was stripping the thick layers of paint on the window cill in the main bedroom with my heat gun and favourite scraper.  The window was open and suddenly there was a really strong smell of perfume, as though someone wearing half a bottle had walked past the first floor window.  Then it happened again and it seemed that the smell was actually coming from the paint!  Was I really disturbing the accumulated smell of perfume bottles set on the window cill by the spinsters (first Miss Coleman and then Miss Dealey) who lived here from 1925 until 1984?  I'd just love to know what perfume they wore!

Nearly Finished

It seems strange after so many months work to realise that we are mere days from being able to move in.  Of course, it won't be finished then, just liveable, but moving in will be a great step forward, of course.  Many jobs have been prioritised on the basis of whether they assist the moving-in day, so refurbishment of the sash windows, for instance, has taken a back seat, as has the rebuild of the Victorian "service wing" (as the conservation officer calls it), which has a roof still covered in green tarpaulin and a brick wall in danger of collapse.

The last two weeks have seen huge leaps forward, with many tasks coming good in quick succession; I reckon that 14 different tradesmen have worked in the house in that fortnight. After the driveway (see last week's entry), we have seen the delivery and installation of two new windows, the fitting of the kitchen units, delivery and fitting of the kitchen appliances, installation of the gas boiler, installation of the lounge fireplace and mantel, and the fitting of the bathroom units, not to mention the rest (almost) of the second fix electrics and plumbing.  In that time I myself have tiled and grouted the bathroom (mostly), grouted half the kitchen floor, repaired mortar around the soil pipe, and sanded/painted doors, skirting boards etc, not to mention continuous tidying up!
The one failure was the installation of the new cill for the kitchen window. First, Chris dropped and broke the newly cast cill, then he broke his own foot in a small motor bike accident.  Hopefully, we can muster enough muscle to fit the new cill in a few days, as it lets the draught in under the newly installed window (left) which at least is already a huge improvement on the old galvanised steel door and windows (right).


 The kitchen looks wonderful; the two excellent fitters worked hard and most skilfully, although it did take them from Monday until Friday morning to turn the packs (left) into the finished article (right).  It looks even better with the range installed (below).



I like our new decorative arch on the fireplace in the lounge; this is how it has progressed from horrible (as bought) to great with an intermediate step this week:

My list of tasks is still quite large - it includes making a wardrobe (before we can lay carpets), as well as lots of decorating and tiling.  So, we're on course to move in early in July (and this is June 24th!); then we can start on the service wing, for which we are putting in the necessary applications very soon.

Finally, I was much amused by the fact that our new range has a dog chain.  Honestly.  Apparently it is to ensure that the range does not fall forward when the heavy doors are all opened.  Presumably this has happened to someone and I feel sorry for them.  I guess that someone then at the major range manufacturer has decreed that, to avoid a similar event, a chain should be attached at the back of the range.  However, commonsense has been lost along the way: this range does not have heavy cast iron doors, but rather its doors are light, similar to an oven, and the chain is totally redundant!  Another stupidity done in the name of Health and Safety!

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I do believe its now a landlord's obligation to ensure all cookers in their rental properties are chained to the wall (some sort of H&S), whether it be a heavy Aga that's going nowhere or a tin-can Zanussi.

Matthew C said...

I'm not a landlord - it's mine and I live here!