Main bedroom in No. 7 aka the Shoebox
It is Friday afternoon, and there is a storm raging outside, the rain driving horizontally against the flank wall of the Shoebox. We are spending a quiet afternoon next door in the Matchbox, with the wind howling down the chimneys. It has not been a good week.
The Shoebox being currently uninhabitable due to replastering works in all rooms above the lower ground floor, we are living next door in the Matchbox, which would otherwise be let to tenants. It seemed sensible to take advantage of the period between tenants to have some work done on the Matchbox, and a few days ago I showed you a picture of what the hole in the wall looked like when the window was taken out. From then on, things went downhill. The following day the old window on the top floor was removed and the new one hoisted up to the top of the scaffolding - for the joiner then to find that he had made a mistake in the measurements and that the new box was ten centimetres too short.
That night we slept in the equivalent of a cupboard, the hole in the wall having been boarded up while a new window was prepared. It was then discovered that the two windows on the side of the building could not be repaired as planned since they were rotten, so they will also have to be replaced. The scaffolding put up for the repairs, in our longsuffering neighbours' side passage, had to come down again.
Meanwhile two painters just about old enough to be my great-grandchildren have been wandering around daubing bare wood with primer and paint in a well-meaning way. Since this is Paul's house I am leaving all dealings with workmen to him. Phew! Storms, predicted since the beginning of the week and now materialising, have prevented any work continuing. So we are rejoicing in the absence of stress with a siesta after a glass of wine with lunch. Battle recommences on Monday.
Antony Mair
No comments:
Post a Comment