I've picked out the dog I want, and all going well he'll move in next week. He's a greyhound and is white with a brindle patch on his face. The Cat and Dog Home got him as a stray but he's an ex-racer -- he has an ID number tattoed on his ears. The home has had him on a special diet to build him up, but he's still quite bony. Very tall, quiet but alert and friendly, and apparently playful once he gets to know you. Good with other dogs but will chase cats. His name at the home is Bertie, but he doesn't reallly look like a Bertie.
After chosing Bertie yesterday I went to see Best in Show, to see how demented I'll become once I'm a dog person. Yes, that'll be me in the pet shop screeching: "That's not a bee! It's a parrot!! You don't know my dog!"
Today was a completely wasted day, spent waiting for the carpet warehouse blokes to deliver the flooring. Their excuse: "The lorry isn't co-operating." They're coming at 10am tomorrow now. While waiting I ferried more stuff upstairs, so the house now looks ghastly everywhere. Every room is either horribly empty or ludicrously crammed. Except the toilet and the bathroom, they're pretty normal.
I just want it all to be over so I can relax and enjoy my home. But a chore on tomorrow's agenda is collecting some tile samples for the kitchen. I went into the shop yesterday to look at tiles and it was a nightmare. They quoted me for an average sort of price for the actual tiles, but of course I have such exquisite taste there was nothing in that price range I liked. My favourites were the Delft tiles, £13 EACH, never mind price per square metre. The small, plain, multicoloured tiles I'd admired were almost twice the quoted price. The cheaper tiles all have a tic: wobbly edges, "antiqued" effect, "artisan" finish. Ick, a tic. I spent almost an hour in the shop, which is small but jammed with display boards, and finally found a couple of candidates: thick, chunky-looking "biscuit" tiles, and a range of fairly inoffensive pastels. The biscuit tiles only come in a few colours: black, white, cream, blue and green. They were displayed in checks, and I imagine that could look good -- black and white, or cream and blue. They would be slightly retro. Hmmm.
Just to complicate matters the man said it would be ok if I got the tiles elsewhere, the quote for labour would be the same. So that widens the search to a massive number of tile emporia, including Fired Earth in Glasgow and the dreaded arty place in the High Street.
Chad says he'll bring the blackcurrant cuttings in tomorrow, and maybe a raspberry cane as well, so I'll be able to garden on Saturday while Dougie and Bob do their thing indoors. Unless it rains, of course, in which case I'll hide upstairs.
Showing posts with label flooring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flooring. Show all posts
15 March 2001
4 March 2001
Two days off coming up, not a moment too soon. Last week was exhausting. Even yesterday was tiring, and that was a day off. I haven't got a lot planned for my days off, hurrah!
Today I went for a great walk, over an hour of brisk healthy striding. The roads were thronging with other brisk walkers -- the cross-country footpaths are pretty much all shut down because of the foot and mouth outbreak. The Dalmeny estate is on a war footing: the main estate entrance and the estate farm entrance were covered in straw and guards had been posted to make sure visitors used the disinfectant footbath.
The more I learn about foot and mouth, the more baffled I am. I'd always thought it was a dread disease, on a par with leprosy or bubonic plague -- in fact it's been called a plague in headlines in A Certain Newspaper. But it turns out it's about as serious as a bout of the flu. If you leave the sick pigs and cows alone they get better. One writer said the wholesale slaughter was an economic thing: infected livestock lose condition & weight and aren't worth as much. And because it spreads so fast it's better to kill all the animals in an infected herd than risk gazillions more animals getting it and being worth less. Apparently.
The other thing, of course, is that you can vaccinate livestock against foot and mouth disease. But that costs money, and again, apparently it's cheaper to risk having to slaughter all your animals than to make sure they don't get sick in the first place.
Meanwhile, back in my disease-free habitat, Dougie and Bob are coming in a fortnight's time to do the floors. He reckons it will take two days: Saturday and Sunday. I have to go in to the warehouse tomorrow and make sure they've got all the right stuff, which they'll then deliver. In the week before Dougie arrives, I'll have to move as much furniture upstairs as possible. The windows blokes are coming on Thursday. If they fix the boards around the french doors then, I can sand and varnish them over the following few days, so they'll be finished before Dougie and Bob get stuck in.
I have fantasies of painting the livingroom before the floors are done, but I have to stamp them down. I would have to scrape off all the embossed wallpaper first, ghastly business, then no doubt plaster over various holes and cracks before painting, or put up lining paper. Just too complicated, messy, time-consuming and tiring. Same with the dining room. I've more or less decided on colours -- darkish green for the dining room, perhaps with dark red velvet curtains and a lightshade with some kind of crystals or sparkles; and my favourite pale adam green for the living room with white dotted muslin curtains. I'd like to recover the sofa and chairs in lighter shades too, cream and pink maybe.
Today I went for a great walk, over an hour of brisk healthy striding. The roads were thronging with other brisk walkers -- the cross-country footpaths are pretty much all shut down because of the foot and mouth outbreak. The Dalmeny estate is on a war footing: the main estate entrance and the estate farm entrance were covered in straw and guards had been posted to make sure visitors used the disinfectant footbath.
The more I learn about foot and mouth, the more baffled I am. I'd always thought it was a dread disease, on a par with leprosy or bubonic plague -- in fact it's been called a plague in headlines in A Certain Newspaper. But it turns out it's about as serious as a bout of the flu. If you leave the sick pigs and cows alone they get better. One writer said the wholesale slaughter was an economic thing: infected livestock lose condition & weight and aren't worth as much. And because it spreads so fast it's better to kill all the animals in an infected herd than risk gazillions more animals getting it and being worth less. Apparently.
The other thing, of course, is that you can vaccinate livestock against foot and mouth disease. But that costs money, and again, apparently it's cheaper to risk having to slaughter all your animals than to make sure they don't get sick in the first place.
Meanwhile, back in my disease-free habitat, Dougie and Bob are coming in a fortnight's time to do the floors. He reckons it will take two days: Saturday and Sunday. I have to go in to the warehouse tomorrow and make sure they've got all the right stuff, which they'll then deliver. In the week before Dougie arrives, I'll have to move as much furniture upstairs as possible. The windows blokes are coming on Thursday. If they fix the boards around the french doors then, I can sand and varnish them over the following few days, so they'll be finished before Dougie and Bob get stuck in.
I have fantasies of painting the livingroom before the floors are done, but I have to stamp them down. I would have to scrape off all the embossed wallpaper first, ghastly business, then no doubt plaster over various holes and cracks before painting, or put up lining paper. Just too complicated, messy, time-consuming and tiring. Same with the dining room. I've more or less decided on colours -- darkish green for the dining room, perhaps with dark red velvet curtains and a lightshade with some kind of crystals or sparkles; and my favourite pale adam green for the living room with white dotted muslin curtains. I'd like to recover the sofa and chairs in lighter shades too, cream and pink maybe.
2 March 2001
More tooth-grinding over insurance. It's gotten so complicated I can hardly follow it myself, so I hope the insurance company can grasp the fact that they still owe me £100. I got two cheques in the mail today, both £50 short. And no, it's not a coincidence: £50 is the policy excess, which they've already taken off.
I tried phoning but it was constantly engaged, so I sat down and wrote them a letter. I enclosed a copy of the letter I sent the inspection firm, and photocopies of the tear-off bits that came with the relevant cheques. The whole time I was doing this my irritation levels were rising. Why is this so HARD? Where's the good karma payoff from not cheating them over the rug? Why am I even bothering? If it had been just £50 I wouldn't have, probably. But the second extra £50 really got my goat.
At least I can go ahead and get the new flooring laid, that's something. Dougie's phoning me tomorrow with a date, and I have to pop in to the warehouse to check they've got the right laminate.
After all that -- and given that I was going in to work early -- there wasn't time for the gym. Oh, what a shame! I'm so stunningly lazy I'm almost ashamed of myself.
The weather this morning was stunning. There was a thick river fog that we get now and then, a freezing fog that left some hedges up on higher ground frosted all over. After it cleared it was brilliantly sunny, eye-achingly so. I feel as though I've been hibernating on days like this.
Tomorrow I'm taking the cat to the airport to meet her baldcat, who's been in Paris for a week. I haven't minded minding her, but I won't miss her litter tray. This is a cat who goes outside for half an hour then comes back inside to go to the toilet.
In the evening there's a farewell party at a pub in town for Davie, who plays Irish and Scottish music on the fiddle. That should be fun. He's off to New Zealand.
I tried phoning but it was constantly engaged, so I sat down and wrote them a letter. I enclosed a copy of the letter I sent the inspection firm, and photocopies of the tear-off bits that came with the relevant cheques. The whole time I was doing this my irritation levels were rising. Why is this so HARD? Where's the good karma payoff from not cheating them over the rug? Why am I even bothering? If it had been just £50 I wouldn't have, probably. But the second extra £50 really got my goat.
At least I can go ahead and get the new flooring laid, that's something. Dougie's phoning me tomorrow with a date, and I have to pop in to the warehouse to check they've got the right laminate.
After all that -- and given that I was going in to work early -- there wasn't time for the gym. Oh, what a shame! I'm so stunningly lazy I'm almost ashamed of myself.
The weather this morning was stunning. There was a thick river fog that we get now and then, a freezing fog that left some hedges up on higher ground frosted all over. After it cleared it was brilliantly sunny, eye-achingly so. I feel as though I've been hibernating on days like this.
Tomorrow I'm taking the cat to the airport to meet her baldcat, who's been in Paris for a week. I haven't minded minding her, but I won't miss her litter tray. This is a cat who goes outside for half an hour then comes back inside to go to the toilet.
In the evening there's a farewell party at a pub in town for Davie, who plays Irish and Scottish music on the fiddle. That should be fun. He's off to New Zealand.
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