How naive was I, thinking the plumber would come today just because he said he would? He said tea-time, which I narrowed down to "around five or six". I waited until 7.30 before phoning. He'd forgotten. He couldn't come now because he was going out. And then he got angry with me! It was like I'm some kind of mad stalker who keeps ringing him up. He's too nice to just say no, so he doesn't show up and hopes I'll stop calling. We had a big fight and now we're through. Sob.
Tomorrow I'll try someone else, maybe the other local plumber, the one who put Jack's new bathroom in but put the wrong slant on the bath so that water collects in the wastepipe and smells musty. He probably won't be busy.
Aside from that it was an ok day - did some housework, did some computer stuff (very satisfying, actually, though far too geeky to go into here - I solved a problem with my old computer that I had thought was insoluble).
And, I now have "Happy Birthday" down pat on the guitar and have started on "Ode to Joy". It's trickier because you pluck with two fingers - it's going to take forever to learn, but it's lovely. I prefer picking to chords, though I'm also practising some blues style riffing.
29 November 2005
25 November 2005
:: birthdays
Having been pretty slack about sending out birthday greetings this year I was touched at how many people remembered mine! Presents included matching teacosy and scarf, fromm Pinky and Mum respectively. The scarf, bought in Dunedin (I assume) is light purple and the teacosy, bought in Auckland, is red, but they're made of the same kind of yarn, a wild hairy stuff. All very apt for today, when we got a fierce blast of weather from the Arctic. Lots of places got thick snow (including the south-west of England), but we just got sleet, which is miserable stuff.
Many thanks to everyone.
It's Bertie's birthday tomorrow - he'll be eight, which makes him about my age now. He's going quite grey and getting very grumbly and set in his ways. I was cursing him this morning - how delicious it would have been to have sat there reading as the sleet lashed the windows. How undelicious it was to struggle into several layers of woollies and waterproofs and trudge around the town.
Bizarrely the firm that looks after the gardens of the flats across the road chose today to turn up. They were trimming and mowing for a few hours in the worst of the weather. Otherwise it was just the dogwalkers out and about.
I'm still having plumbing woes. The main woe now is trying to get anyone to sort out my plumbing woes. It's frustrating because I'm pretty sure I could do it myself, but I'm too scared in case I a) bring down the ceiling (header tank) or b) blow the place up (timer clock). So I'm reduced to phoning the Recommended Plumber every day.
"So, do you think you can come this afternoon?"
"Weeeeellll, I might be able to get over before half three, but to tell you the truth I'm strugglin. We're so busy just now, and I've got to get these jobs finished before Christmas."
"What? You mean to say that even if you can come round and look at mine, you won't have time to do the actual work?"
"If I could just come round in the evening ... it's getting there by half three that's the problem."
So anyway now he's coming round on Monday evening, my day off. I suspect I will be very, very lucky to get anything done before Christmas. The alternative is to ring 500 other plumbers, who will all be too busy except for the one who has messed up so many jobs he doesn't get any repeat work. So as it's not urgent I'll just let the Recommended Plumber work through his To Do list.
In the meantime maybe I should drop some dye in the header tank so the icicles in the honeysuckle are nice festive colours.
Many thanks to everyone.
It's Bertie's birthday tomorrow - he'll be eight, which makes him about my age now. He's going quite grey and getting very grumbly and set in his ways. I was cursing him this morning - how delicious it would have been to have sat there reading as the sleet lashed the windows. How undelicious it was to struggle into several layers of woollies and waterproofs and trudge around the town.
Bizarrely the firm that looks after the gardens of the flats across the road chose today to turn up. They were trimming and mowing for a few hours in the worst of the weather. Otherwise it was just the dogwalkers out and about.
I'm still having plumbing woes. The main woe now is trying to get anyone to sort out my plumbing woes. It's frustrating because I'm pretty sure I could do it myself, but I'm too scared in case I a) bring down the ceiling (header tank) or b) blow the place up (timer clock). So I'm reduced to phoning the Recommended Plumber every day.
"So, do you think you can come this afternoon?"
"Weeeeellll, I might be able to get over before half three, but to tell you the truth I'm strugglin. We're so busy just now, and I've got to get these jobs finished before Christmas."
"What? You mean to say that even if you can come round and look at mine, you won't have time to do the actual work?"
"If I could just come round in the evening ... it's getting there by half three that's the problem."
So anyway now he's coming round on Monday evening, my day off. I suspect I will be very, very lucky to get anything done before Christmas. The alternative is to ring 500 other plumbers, who will all be too busy except for the one who has messed up so many jobs he doesn't get any repeat work. So as it's not urgent I'll just let the Recommended Plumber work through his To Do list.
In the meantime maybe I should drop some dye in the header tank so the icicles in the honeysuckle are nice festive colours.
13 November 2005
:: heavy duty
Pretty tiring week, one way and another - work in particular is tiring, and then there was a couple of nights of broken sleep due to a combination of gale-force winds and nervous dogs, Ozzy in particular. He also freaked out when my Saturday morning paper was delivered (at 6:30am - who knew? my respect for the newsagent just trebled). Last night was tranquil, however, so I feel refreshed and ready for work - which is just as well, because it will be hard.
Ozzy is settling in really well. He's lying on the sofa next to me as I type this (loving the laptop! surfing from the sofa!) worn out after a long walk. He's always on the alert though - his ears are up. Bertie, aka Mr Mogadon, is upstairs, completely joed out.
I've got tomorrow off, and am determined to use it wisely - the main project is getting to grips with the header tank.
Ozzy is settling in really well. He's lying on the sofa next to me as I type this (loving the laptop! surfing from the sofa!) worn out after a long walk. He's always on the alert though - his ears are up. Bertie, aka Mr Mogadon, is upstairs, completely joed out.
I've got tomorrow off, and am determined to use it wisely - the main project is getting to grips with the header tank.
10 November 2005
:: guess who's coming for your dinner?
Ozzy!
Yes, the terrierist is back - for eight sleeps, this time. Penny said she told him this morning that he was going to see Bertie and he ran to the door, crying with excitment. Bertie is cool! Bertie has fun toys and great-tasting food! Bertie catches real live hedgehogs!
So at lunchtime Ozzy came bursting through the door and took charge. He checked out the food dish (yum! tasty!), tried out the toys, chewed on a bone, climbed on the furniture. But Bertie still wins when it comes to wildlife - he led the charge into the back yard to chase off the two rabbits and the squirrel that pretty much seem to have taken up permanent residence out there.
Ozzy has calmed down quite a bit since his last stay and he should be ok. So long as the fox keeps its yap shut at night, anyway.
I think I cracked the plumbing crisis: the water is now trickling out of a pipe that emerges from under the eaves. That means a problem with the header tank ballcock, probably. At some point over the weekend I'll get a proper inspection light and have a good look. I can bend the ballcock bar as a short-term fix, but I might have to replace the assembly in the end. That should be easy enough, though my big problem with these kind of jobs is finding the shutoff tap and draining things down. I also have a morbid fear of falling through the ceiling. (I'm fairly sure Ozzy would eat me after a couple of days.)
And I do remember the bathroom tap ordeal, when changing the washers turned into a mole wrench nightmare of epic proportions. I kind of almost know what I'm doing, which is in some ways worse than not knowing anything at all and getting a plumber in. It's cheaper though!
Yes, the terrierist is back - for eight sleeps, this time. Penny said she told him this morning that he was going to see Bertie and he ran to the door, crying with excitment. Bertie is cool! Bertie has fun toys and great-tasting food! Bertie catches real live hedgehogs!
So at lunchtime Ozzy came bursting through the door and took charge. He checked out the food dish (yum! tasty!), tried out the toys, chewed on a bone, climbed on the furniture. But Bertie still wins when it comes to wildlife - he led the charge into the back yard to chase off the two rabbits and the squirrel that pretty much seem to have taken up permanent residence out there.
Ozzy has calmed down quite a bit since his last stay and he should be ok. So long as the fox keeps its yap shut at night, anyway.
I think I cracked the plumbing crisis: the water is now trickling out of a pipe that emerges from under the eaves. That means a problem with the header tank ballcock, probably. At some point over the weekend I'll get a proper inspection light and have a good look. I can bend the ballcock bar as a short-term fix, but I might have to replace the assembly in the end. That should be easy enough, though my big problem with these kind of jobs is finding the shutoff tap and draining things down. I also have a morbid fear of falling through the ceiling. (I'm fairly sure Ozzy would eat me after a couple of days.)
And I do remember the bathroom tap ordeal, when changing the washers turned into a mole wrench nightmare of epic proportions. I kind of almost know what I'm doing, which is in some ways worse than not knowing anything at all and getting a plumber in. It's cheaper though!
6 November 2005
:: Guy Fawkes
After 400 years, isn't it time to give it a rest?
I used to love fireworks, and now I hate them nearly as much as Bertie does. The DAP doesn't seem to have any effect at all. Last night the racket was so bad he tore up his duvet in a frenzy of fear. He also barked and cried and paced around. Finally BBC Radio 2 playing loudly upstairs and in the kitchen seemed to put him into something like a coma. He was in a froth from when he heard the first bang - at about 4pm, while we were out on a walk - right through until about 11pm.
Tonight isn't quite so bad - the first few explosions rattled him but he settled down on the shredded remains of his duvet to listen to PJ Proby and Elvis. But then it got bad and he had a couple of hours of barking and crying and pacing. He's settled down again now (operetta and hits from the musicals) - I hope that's it. Poooooor boy!
One of the neighbours is giving his dog a natural remedy for fireworks misery - since DAP seems to have been rather a waste of time, I might try that. I think the problem with the pheromones is that Bertie doesn't sleep in one room most of the time - he like to move around the house, so he's probably not getting enough of a treatment to affect him greatly.
I used to love fireworks, and now I hate them nearly as much as Bertie does. The DAP doesn't seem to have any effect at all. Last night the racket was so bad he tore up his duvet in a frenzy of fear. He also barked and cried and paced around. Finally BBC Radio 2 playing loudly upstairs and in the kitchen seemed to put him into something like a coma. He was in a froth from when he heard the first bang - at about 4pm, while we were out on a walk - right through until about 11pm.
Tonight isn't quite so bad - the first few explosions rattled him but he settled down on the shredded remains of his duvet to listen to PJ Proby and Elvis. But then it got bad and he had a couple of hours of barking and crying and pacing. He's settled down again now (operetta and hits from the musicals) - I hope that's it. Poooooor boy!
One of the neighbours is giving his dog a natural remedy for fireworks misery - since DAP seems to have been rather a waste of time, I might try that. I think the problem with the pheromones is that Bertie doesn't sleep in one room most of the time - he like to move around the house, so he's probably not getting enough of a treatment to affect him greatly.
3 November 2005
:: loft living
I spent half the morning teetering around the loft with a torch, desperately looking for leaks. It's a big space, criss-crossed with wooden roofbeams. There's no lighting and no floor, just the ceilings joists and various bits of wood - old doors and such. The long-term plan is to put up a proper loft ladder and floor at least part of it. For the meantime, getting up there involves climbing a stepladder through a hatch in the hallway ceiling.
So there I am, balancing on a joist, torch in hand, grubbing around in the insulation. Some of this is pink fibreglass batts, but a lot of it is ... well I don't know - it looks like kapok. Piles of yellowish fluff.
It was tricky working out where I was in relation to the leak. Every bit of ceiling I looked at was dry. The roof seemed completely sound, which was good, but the lack of water was mystifying. At long last I found some slightly damp insulation and a small patch of mould. Hurrah! And then I spotted what I hope is the culprit: a plastic pipe exiting from a small header tank (for the hot water tank, I think) had come adrift. It seems to be an overflow pipe. I jammed it back together again, but I will have to go back up armed with gaffer tape and a better light. And maybe some planks! There was one terrifying moment when I lost my balance and nearly trod heavily on the bedroom ceiling. Managed to grab a beam at the last minute, wrenching my shoulder but at least not plunging down through a new skylight.
So there I am, balancing on a joist, torch in hand, grubbing around in the insulation. Some of this is pink fibreglass batts, but a lot of it is ... well I don't know - it looks like kapok. Piles of yellowish fluff.
It was tricky working out where I was in relation to the leak. Every bit of ceiling I looked at was dry. The roof seemed completely sound, which was good, but the lack of water was mystifying. At long last I found some slightly damp insulation and a small patch of mould. Hurrah! And then I spotted what I hope is the culprit: a plastic pipe exiting from a small header tank (for the hot water tank, I think) had come adrift. It seems to be an overflow pipe. I jammed it back together again, but I will have to go back up armed with gaffer tape and a better light. And maybe some planks! There was one terrifying moment when I lost my balance and nearly trod heavily on the bedroom ceiling. Managed to grab a beam at the last minute, wrenching my shoulder but at least not plunging down through a new skylight.
2 November 2005
:: something nasty in the attic
Just before I left for work today, for some reason my eyes strayed to the ceiling in the upstairs hallway (rolling my eyes at something on the radio, probably). And I noticed a bulge. A downwards bulge, like the kind of bubble you get in bad paintwork, only bigger. I had a book in my hand, so I very gently poked the bulge. It gave gracefully, and when I'd finished poking at it, it smoothly rebulged.
I looked at the floor. Was that a tiny damp patch on the carpet? Aiee! I took a towel from the hotwater cupboard (coincidentally right under the bulge) and tossed it on the suspect spot. Who knows what I'll find when I get home. But I'll be phoning a plumber in the morning - right after I've climbed up into the loft to investigate.
My best guess is that the header tank or its piping is leaking and that there's a big puddle up there, with its deepest point over the bulge. I might even be able to mend it myself, with some gaffer tape!
I looked at the floor. Was that a tiny damp patch on the carpet? Aiee! I took a towel from the hotwater cupboard (coincidentally right under the bulge) and tossed it on the suspect spot. Who knows what I'll find when I get home. But I'll be phoning a plumber in the morning - right after I've climbed up into the loft to investigate.
My best guess is that the header tank or its piping is leaking and that there's a big puddle up there, with its deepest point over the bulge. I might even be able to mend it myself, with some gaffer tape!
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