Hullo. This hiatus I previously talked about is going on a bit, and not like a nice holiday where you are happy that the hours are dragging a bit because it allows you a little more time to sunburn the backs of your calves and over-indulge in cheaply made cocktails on the basis they’re mostly fruit-juice and, thus, health.
The hiatus is going on a bit because I figured, when I first thought up the fabulous hiatus idea (ie: not blogging something every Sunday night watching whatever primetime serial is showing – at the moment it’s the new series of Downton Abbey) I really planned for it to just be over the summer whilst I had, you know, a BREAK from my REALLY AWFULLY HARD LIFE of looking after NewHuman, the dog and the Boyfriend (officially Husband but boyfriend makes me feel younger so I’m keeping on at it).
Whilst my hiatus has been underway so have the previously referenced kitchen renovations. Casting no aspersions on the builders whatsoever, it’s taking fucking forever (it seems) whilst at the same time actually taking much less time than these things usually do. We have also been blessed with excellent and not-really-wet-at-all weather for the majority of it. However, the late running warm temperatures and light evenings have come to a sudden end and having a house open to the elements is not at all ideal. I just now spent 20 minutes under a boiling hot shower in anticipation of a further 90 minutes downstairs freezing my tits off.
First world problems.
The builders are lovely. An Irish father and son combination who curse and swear at each other in eyewateringly colourful language whilst, as soon as I appear, being all sweetness and light, and a long-term London resident but Romanian national who has brought his nephew, an architect in training, along for some on-site laboring whilst he learns the trade. Oh, and one other muscle-dude named Vasily who can seemingly lift mountains and has fallen hard for NewHuman without having shared a word of English with him. I mostly ply them with biscuits and beer whilst warning them I have the eyes of an eagle and a dangerous case of OCD so things need to be BLOODY PERFECT DON’T FUCK ANYTHING UP. Please.
Anyway, below is the state of affairs as of last week:
And below is Saturday just gone, a sad vignette of a builder at odds with the kitchen. We’ve had a shit of a time with the kitchen, mostly due to having to, at late notice, fix the shitty jobs done by the previous house owner’s builders. For every £100 the previous owners spent on ‘improvements’ I would estimate we have spent £1000 fixing the shitty workmanship. It makes me very sweary.
The kitchen should fit but the top cupboards will be so high as to be almost useless to me and, thus, the boyfriend has earmarked them for storage of beer. He likes to keep a nice stockpile.
Can you see, below, how the wall behind the kitchen cupboards hasn’t been painted all nice and white? That drives me mad, that does, but apparently it’s totally normal practice because it’ll not at all be visible once everything is all done. But still. MAD.
The below was an accident but it’s a really annoying one because I had a wanker moment when we originally bought the house and purchased actual Vintage Danish Mid-Century White Glass Lights at relatively vast cost. These lights are basically irreplacable. I AM A BIT MAD ABOUT THIS BUT I AM TRYING TO BE FINE ABOUT IT.
As per standard practice the boyfriend and I have made all major purchases online without ever having seen things in person. We are generally quite risk averse (we drive an Audi, we haven’t ever holidayed in Asia, we live in a sensible house and have given our child a sensible name) so the thrill of spending VAST amounts of money online without really properly being sure that we’re buying the right thing is just, well, thrilling. Ahem.
The below was purchased as the light to hang over the kitchen table. It’s aces, although I’d like the girls to be a little more naked, ideally. We’d forgotten, though, how low the ceilings are in the kitchen and hadn’t appreciated how big a 700mm diameter light is and it can’t go where we wanted because it’ll look like a …. well, I can’t think what it’ll look like but it won’t look good. So our nearly £400 purchase on the light will have to be written off. Or, rather, a previous £100 purchase on the landing light will have to be written off so we can hang the new nakey-lady-light there instead.
In general we’ve been eating actual food, with approximately 10-15% takeaway which I don’t think is a bad ratio, really. I have made a significant contribution to this positive ratio on the basis I mostly eat cereal on the nights the boyfriend is out. NewHuman has become very attached to eating all his meals sat 10cm away from the telly and the dog has developed an allergy to meat proteins (I wish I were joking) which means we get to buy really expensive food for her. That, or buy actual pure duck breasts for her. Duck doesn’t count, apparently.
I reckon 3 more weeks.
In 3 more weeks I hope to have the opportunity to cook something properly. I say that with the caveat of the oven having spent this whole period of time out on the back deck, under a tarp. It might not work anymore.