House reno update

A rather boring, but functional title, I'm afraid, and less exciting than the other post I was going to post which I've decided to postpone. This other post, based on my degree studies is provisionally entitled "Freud was an Idiot", but as I believe that education is a learning process and I might, just maybe, discover that Freud was NOT an idiot, I will postpone writing this possibly slanderous assertion.

We have had friends over at Large Villas for the past two weekends helping with the renovations. CCP came in order to get some hands on experience in tiling and drywalling. Then Christine came up from London to work with Nel on the mosaics for the bathrooms. In terms of excitement, the tiling was quite high up on the list because it represents the beginning of the realization of the design "vision" we have for the place. It was a highly experimental process, one in which yours truly (even though I am posting as Nel, it's actually RHB's partner writing this) did not get involved. The concept was developed by Nel and then refined over a weekend by her and Chris. The results are great, and as soon as possible I will add to this album some photos of the finished work.

House renos updates

We also get the roof retiled this week - does not sound exciting but as the leaky roof had been delaying any progress on the two upper bedrooms, it was agreat leap forward. The roofers were great - professional, thorough and great company. Most of them had a limp in one leg or the other and one day when I was out on the scaffold with them sharing a cup of tea, I asked why. The answer came as I was leaning against the guard rail some thirty feet in the air, as the senior guy explained that it was because at some time or other scaffolds fail, and most roofers have fallen off. I beat a hasty retreat inside to the safety of my solid floors, but as I was the contracted carpenter to replace a few rotten joists I still had to go out on the thing to complete my work. As I was doing this mostly at night, after School, and as it is now dark fairly early each evening, I had a few scary moments, as it is not until you are on a scaffold of this height on your own that you realize the scaffolding moves and sways and creaks alarmingly. Pictures of the completed roof will follow.

Renovation update - Phase Five

House renos updates

This album will be the one we use for keeping a record of our ongoing renovations. Progress has been good, steady and above all, to the required quality. The female future occupant of Large Villas is somewhat of the opinion that we are doing too much of the work ourselves, and I agree.

We are trying to plan to get the extension built by others, and I have engaged an architectural draughtsman to draw up plans, after struggling valiantly for a couple of weeks. I have already shown the 3-D representation of our plans from the outside, so I will not repeat myself, but while we are still struggling valiantly to get basic stuff done, like get the garbage removed from the yard, we are pressing on with design, as the example on the left shows. Because of the problems of converting files created in Corel Draw to Photoshop and then to a jpg, the whole point of this example is, I'm afraid, rather lost, because the colours represented here bear absolutely no relation to the colours we intend to use in the bathrooms, but the basic idea perhaps translates, which is to use a mosaic effect in small areas of the walls and a mixed palettes of linoleum floors tiles.

Linoleum floor tiles ! You mean that horrible material from the Seventies? Yes, I do - the exact same stuff, except that it has been rebranded as Marmoleum. We are trying to be as environmentally conscious as possible, but as recycled rubber was just too expensive, vinyl is oil based, after some research we discovered that linoleum is made from Linseed Oil and flax. You could practically eat the stuff.

The updates to the album this week show the massive bay windows of the front bedroom. The plan was to strip the wall of plaster, build a simple frame, stick some insulation in, then drywall the bay. Quick and easy. Unfortunately, I found an unacceptable amount of rot in the original frames (they are 100 years old), so to the above list has been added 'rebuild the frames from the inside'. As the frames all supported eachother this has been a slow process, forensic in detail as each sill, jamb and supporting pieces has had to be individually removed before being replaced with new wood. Add to this that the timber that the original frames were not constructed in off the shelf sizes. This has meant milling each piece of wood to a unique size. This kind of work requires attention to detail, patience and above all, the carpenter has to be interested in doing this. None of the tradespeople I have currently met seem interested, or were capable of doing this work. Opinions expressed were

a). Stick some mortar in it - 'no-one will know'
b). Get some new plastic frames - 'much easier'
c). Paint over the problem
d). "It's impossible".

All this means is that we either have to use specialist craftsmen, which we cannot afford, or do the thing ourselves. Which is why we are doing so much ourselves.

Elsewhere round the house the vision, given the time it will take to solve these problems, is to be as simple as possible and not to create the kids playhouse that we created in Nova Scotia. We'll see.

The Three Stages of a Renovation

Eventually the tide subsides, the heaving seas settle to a gentle calm, the sun breaks magnificently through the clouds and the relentlessly pounding, heavy, grey rain blows away over the headland to the South. With the clearing skies, everything becomes more defined: there’s a small island about a mile out that looks like a really pleasant daytrip, and the lines of colour as hills stretch to the horizon become dramatic bands of pleasing blues and greys.

Which description is entirely unlike how it felt when the Course Director of Educational Studies with Urban Learning called me to let me know that the degree course I was enrolled upon had been cancelled. Paul, Director of the Educational Studies Department, is hugely apologetic and full of solutions. We have a detailed conversation, and rapidly conclude that if I enroll on a very similar degree course, the probable outcome, for me at least, will be the same. I have one call to make, so I call the Red Haired Boffin:

“Do you have any objections to teaching me?” I ask.

My question confuses her, so I expand and tell her about the course cancellation, plus the suggested alternative. RHB sees no problem for her, so I call Paul back and tell him that I would be delighted to accept a place on the degree course Educational Studies with Psychology. That would seem to be the end of the matter, except that it is not.

The problem is that I sporadically have bouts of Panic Attacks, a weakness that has led to fully fledged depression on two occasions. A day after resolving the ‘issue’ with my course, the first of a wave of panic attacks hit. This happens just as we finally complete the ‘tear-out’ phase of our renovation project and I begin my second in-depth budget analysis, based on what we now know(as opposed to assumed). In a misguided effort to lighten the gloom, I decide to go the pub to watch Liverpool. Drinks are had.

Two days after Paul’s phone call, the monkeys are jumping up and down on my back with gleeful abandon, and I’m finding it very difficult to ‘focus’. This is one manifestation of the ‘condition’ that I experience. For me, there is also the palpable sensation of adrenalin coursing through limbs, it can almost be felt as a thickening and a concentrating of the blood as if it’s chemically changed. Physically, nothing works properly; swallowing is difficult because I seem to be producing gallons of saliva, but my throat feels constricted, there seems to be an avalanche trying to escape out of my temples, but finding no exit it heads for the ears and I can hardly hear anything.

Mentally, thoughts are coming and going, crashing and conflicting, too quick to complete – no thought is ever finished - and I am completely restless all the time, but sleep is hard to achieve. There’s not even a comforting obsession as subjects to ponder vary from Global Warming to whether the cats are safe, rolling through the old noggin like very fast tumbleweed. One thing I can focus on successfully during these bouts is Internet Shopping, and it is only Panic Induced Indecisiveness that has prevented us, in the past, from owning an island in Cape Breton, a collection of Japanese pottery and a Shitzui.

As always happens, the tide subsides, islands in Cape Breton do not get purchased and sleep returns, and Neitze is proven correct once again, provided that is, you are misquoting him about that which does not kill (fear of dying seems universal among panic attackees), improves. The sun breaks magnificently over a calming sea. As we commence the rebuild phase of our project, we analyse the finances and realize that we can complete the majority of what we’ve planned, and a letter arrives from Hull University confirming my new place on the Educational Studies with Psychology degree course.

Not even wrong.

I ask Mike if, by chance, he understands what the word 'Ploppyshank' means. He replies that he's never heard of it, in all his "30 years in the trade", then carries on explaining to me why we should just "fill it with cement". The 'it' in question is the gap between a window and windowsill that has been made apparent by the removal of some rotten wood surrounding it. Mike concludes his explanation with "No-one will know".

I tell Mike that I find his 'simple fix' actually complicated. For a start, the phrase "No-one will know" implies two things:

a). We know that his proposed solution is a quick-fix piece of bodging.

b). It also conveys an attitude of "What the homeowner does'nt see, wont hurt them".

Bearing these implications in mind, his solution (while on face value simple), would for me, I tell Mike, be even more complicated than the construction of this, relatively short sentence, and definitely more complicated than doing the thing correctly. This is mainly because it would involve keeping a secret from myself, while at the same time still charging me for a job well done.

"Oh, I did'nt mean you would'nt know" says Mike, "I mean you're not stupid are you? Of course you'd know. But anyone buying the house after you would'nt have to know, would they? That cement probably wont fail for twenty years or so. We did it all the time in Spain."

It is only 9.30am, and I can feel a firing coming on. I explain, a little more politely than he is due, that the window gap will be repaired my way, either by me, or by him, and I dont care who because I enjoy doing that work.

The tiny exchange we've just had is illustrative of a phenomenon that is sadly familiar. A certain lawyer from London, Ontario did it, (most) doctors do it, and practically every builder I have ever met does it, with this particular "it" being accepting work from someone, then proceeding to do that work with absolutely no reference to the wishes, and sometimes against the best interests of, the person paying them to do the work. It is, for me, the worst type of arrogance. With builders, the pattern of behaviour starts when they get awarded the job.

Mike's first few days on site went well. He listened to what I wanted, made some helpful suggestions, worked hard and deserved his pay at the end of each day. As the week of his employment has progressed he came to the conclusion, based on the fact that I'm generally easy-going (and have accepted some of his suggestions with a genuine "Thanks Mike, I never thought of that"), that he could make life much easier for himself by running "his" job the way he wants to. He came to see it as 'his' job by virtue of being on-site every day and being generally left alone to complete each task as he sees fit. In Mike's eyes, he rapidly became the Gaffer, the experienced old hand helping out a couple of kids who dont really know what they're doing. In reality, the only reason Mike has been left alone so far to do things his way is because, up to now, he has not been in a position to screw something up so badly that he causes us more work.

After our minor disagreement, MIke grumpily works for an hour or two, until Opening Time at the Bricklayers Arms, then, at eleven sharp, heads off for a quick pint or six. He returns in a much happier mood, and spends at least some of the rest of the day making himself slightly useful. He contrasts strongly with my co-workers, Largey and Andy. Largey and Andy are a team of inexperienced but enthusiastic apprentice bricklayers/part-time boffins from Hull University's NeuroScience Department, and they set about their (today) filthy, hard work with a chirpy, can-do attitude. Some much so that we tidy up one of the many holes I've created in record time.

The house reno is approaching the end of Phase One. Phase One involved remedying all the work done by Mike-equivalents over the last forty years. It has taken a hard month of dirt, graft, effort and dogged determination on the part of all who've helped so far. Next week is the start of the rebuild. A rebuild that will be done properly, with or without MIke. A photo tour is attached.

House renovation

The Canadian Job - Putting the team together

As with most hit-em-hard, play fast and loose with the law, devil may care gang of roughnecks assembled for bank jobs and other blags, our team is gradually taking shape. After weeks of planning, the job is set up, ready to go and all we were really lacking was a sexy, wisecracking elite cadre of task specific experts to fly at this thing and, (in the immortal words of David Jones, ex-marketing manager of Atlantex Creative Works), 'fabricate the Hell out of this sucker'.

Alky Mike is first up to the plate. I note his advert in the local store window "30 YEARS EXPERIENCE. HANDMAN. PLUMIN. PANTING AND DECARROTING. JONERY." I call Mike and ask when he can attend. My strategy is to give him a smallish task, pay him, assess how well he's done what I asked, wait a week to see if Large Villas gets burgled and stripped of copper, then if he has performed well, ask him back. The precautions named above are not exagerrated, but are derived from the advice of the local police, who by now we know quite well.

"If you dont know these guys and they know the property is empty, they might decide they can make more money from your copper than from working for you".

I listen carefully, but am finding it difficult to frame my reply, mostly because I'm trying to avoid using the word 'copper' when talking to a member of the British Police. Inevitably, though, I reply

"So, Copper Officer. I mean they'll take my copper, Constable? Well that's something I didnt know. And it's worth that much, copper? I mean is that common plumbing material really valuable? Copper?"

I go on at some length until the copper receives a call on her radio. Apparently some pigs have been stolen from a nearby farm.

Mike agrees to see me, after 2.30, on a hot afternoon. He smells like he's been sleeping in a brewery, refuses a cup of tea and promptly falls into one of the holes I've made in the floorboards. I show him the task I have in mind, which is to remove the bathroom suite from the smaller of the bathrooms. Mike asks me several times what I want doing and promises to return two days later.

To my surprise, Mike turns up, offers me a Polo mint from a copious supply I discover later he always carries, and sets to work. The task I have set him is easy to perform, and easy to assess, but my initial fears, at least about his workmanship dissipate rapidly. He works hard and very efficiently, not even stopping for a tea break (I have several) and tidies up after himself, finishing just before opening time at the local pub. I'm slightly concerned about his colour change while he works, as he goes from a ruddy red to a kind of fluorescent puce over the course of the morning, but he assures me it is no more than "minor heart trouble". If we dont get robbed over the next week or so, Mike is a 'keeper' ( as long as he stay vertical).

Next up is Steve, plumber extraordinaire. In common with many plumbers, Steve is critical of the work done previously on the property, and while he stops short of describing this work as a 'kettle of fish' he does point out that it was 'probably done by an amateur'. He looks at me accusingly. After plausibly denying any responsibility for the mess of stealable copper we examine, Steve, makes a few suggestions and starts telling me his life story. Divorced once (as is Mike), he lost his business a few months ago and therefore, while he retains his licence and qualifications, he has had to find work as an employee. Anything he can do for us is therefore 'on the black', but certified. Like the plumbing itself, it is a tangled web we have woven, but seeing a kindred spirit in Steve (he is sueing a family owned company that refused to pay him for a massive job he had taken on and went out of business as a result) I agree to his prices and arrange to see him onsite later that weekend. Steve, like Mike, is cash only.

The third member of the team is 'Brains', a graduate student at Hull Uni whom I have never met. 'Brains' is a friend of Matt (another graduate student who I have met) who was suggested to me by Matt after it emerged that Matt wasnt able to do the work. The main reason for this is that Matt is on "Graduate Student Time", which means his working hours are 12.00 noon to 16.30 {web sudduko and read the papers} 16.30 to 19.00 {pub}, 19.00 to 03.00 {work}. Matt was slightly non-plussed to discover that the rest of the world did not operate on this timetable, so could not commit, but suggested Brains. I e-mail Brains, sexing up the project by telling him that the use of power tools might be part of the deal (once I have satisfied myself that he can do so without severing an artery). 'Brains' is psyched and wants to start immediately. I tell him to meet me on site (this was an e-mail conversation) and that is that last I hear from him.

So we have the makings of an elite squad. Mike, who may possibly drop dead on me at any moment, and who I dare not give anything too physical; Steve, who's life has fallen apart fater building a business for twenty years: Red Haired Boffin, who gets a 'hurty arm' after sanding for two minutes or longer and Mazzer, the mastermind, who's broken arm is still broken, and who only has the vaguest idea what we're doing. I only now need an Angelina Jolie analogue as a roofer, and a Brad Pitt equivalent as a hard-but-intellectual jack of all trades and we're good to go.

Large Villas:

I receive an estimate from Build First for our Loft Conversion, and am beginning to realize two things:

1. My communication skills are about on a par with Icksy's

2. This project will be a severe test of my Project Management skills - there's no hiding behind critical analysis of how crap other people are at running projects.

Actually, there is also a third thing I realize, namely that the Red Haired Boffin and I are genetically, culturally and emotionally incapable of doing anything normal. Fortunately, BBC Radio 4, my daytime companion, informs me that new experiences, or 'novelism' as the interviewee on their otherwise excellent 'All in the Mind' (a programme about psychology and other brain matters), decides to label the phenomena, are, on the whole, a good thing. Apparently, living life by rote makes the apparent unfurling of your life seem a faster process, whereas doing things differently, and having new experiences extends your percieved lifespan. I can relate to this because it seems like a hundred years ago that we decided to buy this house, and do non-conventional things with it.

Build First is a revolutionary new system whereby I supply my plans online to a website, recieve a courtesy phone call to clarify a few details, and am then supplied with a quote that the company are guaranteed to honour. This sounds ideal to me.

Currently, I am devoting about an hour per day to meeting various tradespeople to discuss the work I require doing, and am finding the process a complete waste of my time. The reason I am finding the process a complete waste of time has, as it's roots, the pointless move to Urbanization five thousand years ago in ancient Uruk, one of the first cities. As an example, a brief synopsis of my conversation today with Gary, from Build-It-Now, a local company will suffice.

I meet Gary on-site, two days after he agreed to originally meet me, and I show him the plans for our proposed extension. We discuss details, clarifying a few points, and Gary asks me if Planning Permission has yet been granted. I tell him "No", and he is surprised.

"Did'nt your architect get the Planning Permission for you while he was drawing up the plans?" he asks.

"No," I tell him, "We did'nt use an architect. We did these plans ourselves."

Gary changes tack " I can't give you a quote based on these plans", he tells me.

"Why not?"

"They have to be drawn up by architects" he says, continuing " I have the number of the guy we usually use. He could probably do these for about grand." [Note: ' a grand' = a thousand pounds].

I'm puzzled, so I ask, "What is there about my plans that's different form an architect's?"

"Well, nothing really" Gary tells me, " It's just that we work from architect's drawing's. The scale is different. And he uses little dots to represent the bricks. You've used little squares."

I agree to go home and change the little squares on my plans to little dots. After two weeks looking for a builder, it seems that every builder we've met knows a really good architect, one who will use dots not squares, and if we decide not to use these architects, the project becomes very difficult. I call a few architects to clarify the situation, and e-mail one my plans.

"The drawings are good" he tells me, "But we use little dots to represent the bricks, not little squares."

I decide to ask what I'd get for my money if I hired an architect, and the answer is that I'd get drawings, a few recommendations as to what builders to use and a few materials resources suggestions.

"And the structural calculations" I add to his description, "You know, design and specification of structural beams, specifications for the heating system that sort of thing...?"

"Well, no", he tells me "You'd have to get other people to do all that. Then you'd have to tell us what they specified, and we'd include it in the drawings."

"What, you mean exactly as I have already done?"

"Yes", says a member of the most highly overpaid professions on Earth (apart from pilots), "But the drawings we supply would be architectural".

I pass on his offer to do exactly what I have done at a cost of £1000 pounds. The reason this is the fault of the inhabitants of Uruk, is that it was there that the division of labour was invented. While I am all in favour of full qualifications and training to do a professional job, I do'nt like cartels.

I'm reviewing the quote for our loft conversion. It's originator is Build First, the fool-proof web based solution. I'm hoping they can take me out of the Hull cartel. I call them and point out their error in supplying me with a quote for a loft conversion, instead of an extension. They are apologetic and offer an immediate solution:

" We have contacts with some really good local architects who can draw the plans up for you".