The holly and the ivy
of all the trees that are in our 'hood
the holly needs chopping down.(only that would cause heave apparently).
Or so I think. We have just been told the joyous news that the large holly tree in next doors garden means we need foundations of 2m for our extension. I would have thought a rather nice tower block could be built on those let alone a paltry single storey blockwork number. The structural surveyor is proving unswayable and so we are hoping the buildings inspector may see the light and allow a more reasonable 1.4. If not then if the extension is ever built it will look more like a repo' with just a Bunsen burner to cook on and few packing crates for furniture as all of our budget will be blown on the concrete beneath us.
Arch rivals
The previous owners at number four had, as you know, done very little to the house for many years. What little they had done had been bizarre. As an example, they had removed an original fireplace and made it into a crazy paving path.
Another improvement was by way of smashing out theoriginal plaster work in the hall”just in case it fell down by itself”.This had left the hall sad and characterless. Upon meeting Freda, our next door neighbour, I became consumed with arch envy as the house in which she lives has all of the hall plasterwork intact and it is quite beautiful. Note it had not fallen on Freda's head and she has lived there for thirty years.
I contacted some fibrous plaster specialists to get a quote for reinstatement - horrendously expensive. Then our lovely plasterer, Antonio, said that he could make one. A few sheets of ply, a bit of batten and a lot of skill and it is well on the way to being something lovely. I managed to get two large corbels for 24 quid on eBay and I am certain that by the time they are in situ, my arch will be the envy of arch fanciers everywhere.
Who do you love?
Well for us it has got to be some of the new neighbours at number four. Following on from the great fly tipping fiasco we needed to rid ourselves' of the star attraction of the street - the latest in a long line of 20 yarder roll on/off skips. Never has a lump of metalproved so popular and so visited. To avoid paying extra tonnage we arranged for it's removal. Several times. Each time the lorry left empty handed asparked carsprevented collection. Each abortive attempt left yet another opportunity for a bit more trash to appear and I was feeling pretty desperate.
In a last ditch attempt I dropped our car outside of the house to prevent anyoneblocking the drive. It had to remain there for three days but it probably enjoyed the change of scenery. The big day arrived - butso did three other vehicles blocking each point of entry. Frantic ringing of bells revealed that no one knew the owners - time was running out.Then out of the blue a good Samaritan appeared to say that a space opposite had become available and that he was going to park there to save itfor us. God bless and keep you Sir James. However, James would be in session and so left the keys with anotherneighbour so that he could remove the car at thecritical moment -gentleman of the highest order without doubt.Lorry arrived and a little car ballet later the skip was gone. The lovely neighbour revealed that he had watched the great and good of the road flytipping in the skip with gay abandon for some days. We now know who you are…
On a final note, I was slightly disappointed by the pilgrimage to view the wheelie bins across our drive. I had placed these directlyacross to prevent any vehicles parking too close and being hit by the lorry. This had obviously outraged another neighbour who brought some friends to tut at this act ofselfishness. Ladies - I am sorry (for you).
Skip etiquette
not literally - I am all for old fashioned manners and niceties. Rather the way in whichwe should respect the skips of others.
Having now racked up a waste bill of about 2500 for skips alone it is more than a little galling to be providing, unwittingly, waste services for half of East Dulwich.
On Monday I arrived at number four to find a neat pile of guttering against our skip and twelve bags of old roofing material inside. Some charming roofer had dumped the lot and left me to load the guttering myself. Very bloody annoying indeed.
On Tuesday the guttering found itself some friends in the form of some dodgy peach tiles and by Wednesday they had been reunited with some matching dodgy carpet.
By Wednesday I'd had quite enough and arranged for the damned thing to be taken away before we ventured into extra tonnage territory. But the lorry could not turn in the road and left empty handed.
On Thursday the party had hotted up with our neighbours purple sofa cushions (invited guests) and on Friday everyone was joined by some wood offcuts and garden refuse, including some small trees.
Saturday was a quiet day for flytippers but luckily today I caught one old scroat red handed. When I politely asked him not to he became most indignant, throwing his hands heavenward and stating it was only some old wood. Indeed it is, but the skip is now so overloaded we can hardly see the wood for the trees…
Permission granted
All hail Fennel Mason - planner of distinction and extraordinary good sense and taste. All we need now is to build the thing…
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.
Three surveyors, a half naked man and a headache
So we are one month in and thesmooth ride seems to be over. Damn.
Last week was a bit of turning point in our project. Up until now we have been ahead of schedule and within budget. I knew that it could not last.
The party wall problem is now heading to a giddy climax with the boys meeting at our place on Thursday to try to agree an award - hopefully without the need for a third surveyor but I shall not be holding my breath in case I expire before writing the necessary cheques to pay them all. I remain disenchanted with party wall rules particularly as it would seem that I have unwittingly served the wrong notice! It should have been in three meter excavation form not a general notice - duh silly me. This probably would not be a problem elsewhere but my prophecy of doom is that it will be here, although presumably it could be amended?
The second and more alarming development occurred on Friday when I received a flurry of urgent calls from a builder, his wife and the elderly tenant of the adjoining house. It would appear that some time before 8.30 am a semi clad man began ranting along the street using a rather choice selection of words to describe, at volume, his discontent with the world. It is reported that he then spotted a window open at number four and approached at speed, spittle and sweat flying. Our lovely plasterer was unlucky enough to be the reception committee and was treated to a tirade of abuse and allegations of impropriety. According to the clothes phobic, we have been working early in the morning and over night and all weekend. Bless all of the lovely tradesmen who have evidently been working almost 24 hours a day on our project on a charitable basis since we have not been billed for this extra work. Indeed, if our neighbour is correct many have been working without break for four weeks. Now that is devotion ot the job. Even those who have not been quite so dedicated have been starting as early as 5.00am, seven days a week, always drilling or hammering for the full duration oftheir shift. Naturally I was very concerned - where was the fruit of these additional labours? Or, could it be that this gentleman was mistaken in his assertions?
Despite advice from the other neighbour to steer clear and form the Plasterer to be careful I felt it best to knock and attempt to pour oil on these troubled waters. Should not have bothered - the man was beside himself with fury, although his mood lightened when he mistakenly believed we shared the same name - Helen? Upon further enquiry he told me that we should not start work before 10.00 or 10.30 and that we should not speak in the garden as it disturbs him. I pointed out that would be Avery late start indeed and that we were probably ok to talk in our garden. He response was that we had to write to him about that. I left him much calmer and clutching my number to callshould we or our builders behave so outrageously in future.
Concerned that there may be some element of truth in the allegations I checked with our other neighbours to see if we had indeed been causing a nuisance. Apparently not and, in fact, most seemed to think that the site had been very quiet indeed. All was well until at about 6.30 I had to return to take some measurements. A furious row was taking place next door, clothes came cascading from the window. I left - what a cowardly custard eh?
Later intelligence revealed the old rudey nudeywas taken away by the Police and has yet to return…
Welcome to the party (wall)
The Party Wall Act etc 1996 seems to me to be an opportunity for difficulty and additional expense which presumably it was intended to avoid. If this is the statutory solution goodness knows what capers arose before.
We need to remove an already unstable party wall which divides our garden from the adjoining property. It is no more or less than a garden wall in very bad repair but as it is a party wall we have had to serve notice of our intention to carefully remove and then rebuild it. The adjoining owner has dissented, as is his right under the act, and appointed his own surveyor for whom we have to pay. We now have to appoint our own surveyor and, potentially, if these two cannot agree on the works we than have to appoint a third surveyor to agree an award. Jobs for the boys? In any event, we are going to have to pay several thousand quid for them all to agreethat a wall that is falling down can be taken down and rebuilt at our expense. Very depressing indeed although there is a slight chance that as we are jointly responsible for the party wall that the adjoining owner will have to contribute toward the cost of rebuilding.
None of this is good for the visage - worry lines are appearing daily. Have had to resort to some rathermarvellous 'filling' from a local Restylane practitioner. She is terribly talented and very discreet - I am not and upon the first “filling” I rushed to school to collect my daughter and urged all those assembled to view the results. This little find has meant that I can now be as cross as I like safe in the knowledge that the damage to the mush can be fixed. Highly recommended and worth every penny, see Sara at www.dulwichnaturalbeauty.co.uk.
Rant over.