Archive for June, 2007
It’s the pits
Trial that is - we have, this weekend, had three trial pits dug to expose the foundations around the house ready for the extension to begin. Sadly, as I had feared, we have almost none at the back addition(circa1930)and precious little at the side where a further small addition( circa 1900)housing the downstairs loo and boiler room is. So what to do? Worst case will be underpinning and the best? Who knows until tomorrow when the structural engineer arrives to deliver his verdict.
I am not certain I can take the strain let alone poor old number four who has already cracked in several places - although saying that she still looks amazing for 127. I am drinking several bottles of beer tonight to steel myself for tomorrows verdict. If it is bad then two rather nice new B&B Italia Solo armchairs will be winging themselves to ebay tomorrow to pay for the work…Please bid generously.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a woman…
in possession of a wreck must be in want of a reliable team of tradesmen.
Having worked on a couple of project houses in the East Dulwich area we have been lucky to find a network of marvelous tradesmen. Often one person has led us to another and seldom have we been disappointed. On the occasions when the tradesmen have beena let downthey have been howlingly bad and beyond belief.
My personal favourite was found via a neighbour on Matham Grove. A funny fellow he was too but his work had been good and he had turned up daily for many weeksalbeit in his carpet slippers.The perfect person we thought and enquired about his services. He was finishing up over the road and pencilled us in for some very minor carpentry works and a bit of guttering together with installing a velux window. Well, he certainly turned up and so did his wife who joined him each day at our house - odd to say the least but he did come highly recommended so we pressed on. On day two he was a bit later than expected and he and his wife spent a long time in the garden - keen botanists perhaps? He looked very mellow when he came back in about half an hour later and seemed to float through the day. This pattern continued for a few days until I ventured out to see if they would like a cup of tea. There they both sat with a gigantic Camberwell carrot passing to and fro. One or two more and they were ready to start the day - complete in their domestic bliss and smoke induced haze. And what a day it was - he climbed through the existing rooflight and in 1 hour 30 had replaced all the guttering without the aid of ladders /scaffolding/bloody safety net and floated back down. 32.75 later and the deal was done.
On another occasion he balanced his ladderon my childhood set of Famous Five books (hardbacks of course - safety first) on the stairs at the top of the house so he could poke his head out and check some flashing's. Camberwell carrots you see - the vegetables of the fearless. I expressed my concern for his safety but his lovely wife assured me he would not endanger himself and every risk was a calculated one.
After the initial honeymoon period he turned out, unsurprisingly of course, to be a total madman. He would arrange to come and not - for severalweeks -when I dared to ask if he would ever return hebecame very indignant indeed offering the fact that I was storing all of his tools in my sitting room for free for many weeks as evidence of his good faith in me! Enough was enough. Even my recently pregnant brain could tell this was a no hoper and so he was given the flick (although strictly of course he had flicked me weeks before). He was outraged and treated me to a vitriolic diatribe, including the fact that he had worked so hard for me and that although he had been paid and thanked it was not enough - I and my fellow Princess across the road did not know anything about hard graft and gratitude, even his wife had been coming each day ( uninvited and unwanted I'm afraid) and we had not even paid her! Fancy that, I blush at the very thought of my bad conduct. He concluded with a request for a dinner service of ours he had taken a fancy too and left. Only to return moments later to try and find a large lump of blow he had concealed in my house but could not quite remember where…So farewell then N and J, Princess Sara and I remember you fondly.
Then there was the impersonator. I had been given the name of a top notch decorator and called him for a quote. He arrived and priced the job, beginning quite soon after. Things seemed to be ok although he did turn up at odd hours to do ” a bit o' fillin” or accost me outside of takeaways to pay for his rice and peas. Still he was very personable and so highly recommended that I thought it would be ok. It was not and slowly we began to realize that this bloke was not all he seemed. Cars would pull up outside of our house and people would yell ” Hello Paul”. Not unusual in itself until you realise the man I thought I had hired was called Lindon. Paul/ Lindon brushed this away with the very obvious explanation that his father was called Lindon and so he was called Little Lindon but in his teens did not like the name Little Lindon and adopted the name Paul. Suspicions roused I made some further enquiries and discovered Paul aka Lindon was an imposter who had taken the real Lindon's phone call and decided to take the job himself! What a hoot - until we discovered all of the sashes has been painted shut, the glass damaged and that so much “fillin'” had been applied that our sills were little more than Polyfilla - the exterior variety of course as Paul aka Little Lindon ain't no cowboy. We recovered 30 quid of the total monies we had paid to him and he rode his horse up to Caesars on Streatham High Road to pick up some squaws on our cash. Live and learn.
Well I thought I had. Then blow me if it does not go and happen again at number four just this week. Thus far we have been blessed with the best team ever - dream plasterer Antonio who has made our wonky old walls look like glass, Tony Gas ( a pet name of course) of Flowrite plumbers who is just marvelous and a bit of a hoot to boot and long term all rounder Tui (2E) who is just the best person to have on your side. In addition we have George the joiner and his trusty team mate Ron ( both 70+) but as fit as ( an elderly) butchers dog. And then we have our roofer who has managed about 8 hours in two days, failed to turn up yesterday and probably won't turn up tomorrow. But ces't la vie I may just learn how to fix slates myself and we will be right back on track. Nil desperandum - or roughly translated don't let the roofer grind you down girl…
You just cannot get the scaffolders these days…
So work has been continuing apace barthe scaffolding.
How ironic that we should have rid ourselves of the very thing that now seems rarer than hens teeth. Having chopped down the vintage stuff weeks ago we now needed to board the house from top to bottom at the both the side and front. Several trades (roofers, plumbers, electricians and decorators) all needed it 2 weeks ago.
Diligently I accosted somescaffolders taking down some scaffolding down from a neighbours property and asked them to quote for the job in good time for our needs. Daddy scaffolders hopped down (attired only in shorts and looking like a skinned rabbit) and came to givea price. Price was fair and only slight downside was Daddy was off to Ibiza in the next few days to shake his thang at the seasonal opening of all the clubs. Good news was baby rabbit was staying behind and would start the following Wednesday.
Wednesday came - no show. Sent a text message and several hours later a reply arrived ” sorry job gone over. be there Friday”. Friday arrived but baby did not and stopped answering his phone. In desperation called Daddy in Ibiza who had probably just fallen out of a club it being 11.15am. He promised to chase up baby. Baby did not call. Monday came and went sent text to Daddy who finally replied saying he was sorry to let us down but was going to anyway. Nice one DB.
In between the no shows the weather had deteriorated and now all the scaffolding companies were playing catch up and no-one would even come to quote untilI met a charming builder called Bob who sorted us out with Tel'. Staggeringly Tel' not only turned up but was charming and polite and arranged to do the job the following week for a good price.
Sadly Tel' himself could not make it but two of his lads could. Happily they did a good job but sadly ran out of boards. Happily they could get more. Sadly not until Friday. Happily two more scaffolders turned up. Sadly they did not have enough boards. Happily even Tel' himself was so pissed off by now that he solemnly promised to finish the job himself today.
Today arrived - disaster, pouring with rain. Hurrah Tel' still came. Sadly he did not have enough boards…but happily he did have a comedy partner who had a fine supply of the foulest language I have ever heard. It was staggering. At one point Computer Boy and I were emptying yet more rubbish from the loft when Mr Silver Tongue popped his head up to ask if we needed to hire a skip. I told him that we had been using one company but would be interested in another. I told him we wanted a large roll on roll off for rubbish not rubble or heavy waste. This simple statementelicited the following:
“You don't want all that f****** b****** the c** will take whatever you f****** give him and f****** l** it as well the f****** w*****. You gotta show these f****** c**** who is in f****** charge or the w****** will s** all over you the f****** b*******. Anyway's his yard is next to our's and he'll sort you out, he's a c*** but he's alright”
He did explain earlier that the Red Bull he'd had for breakfast had got the better of him and presumably he would only have been able to incorporate half the swear words without it.
Things calmed down a bit until…Mr Silver Tongue saw that I had hired some scaffolding boards of my own for our plasterer to use. Big mistake apparently. It quickly became clear that Catherine Tate's foul mouthed granny was based on this very man as he spewed forth with:
” You hired them f****** things - how much? What a f****** liberty. I am telling you now Hel, get them f****** taken down now and give them back to the c**** that's robbing you. Taking f****** liberties I tell you f****** w******. I can't stand it it makes me want to puke - get them down- NOW”
I was desperate to guffaw but could tell he was genuinely incensed that I had paid two quid to hire them. I solemnly promised to return them on Monday.
Somehow Tel' managed to complete the boarding - with fully boarded lifts as well don't you know- despite Mr Silver Tongues digressions. As they rode off into the sunset, well onto the South Circular, I mused what a funny old game renovating number four has become.