Thursday, Friday, Saturday, the days all merged into one long unpleasant memory. The caravan's a greenhouse, the car struggles to to get out of the quagmire which used to be our garden. The flower beds are unworkable and it's even difficult to have a bonfire, but I keep trying. Clothes are caked in wet mud which eventually turns to dry mud. It's still raining. No work being done in house or garden. Trying to plan the garden but have to do it from photos as it is too wet and misty to go out there and pace it out. Lots of early evening glasses of wine. The forecast is for heavy rain, punctuated by light showers. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get through this. Sometimes I feel like I'm in solitary confinement. Now I've started talking to myself to help me through the days, as often the rain is too heavy to be able to hear music or the radio. No electricity in the bedroom, so cold at night. A bit of an ant fest in the kitchen and lounge. This really has been a very difficult time - but little did I know that it was going to get worse.
By Saturday evening the continual heavy downpours had formed a hole in the roof of the house over what was, at some point in its history, the kitchen. The water spread through the house and eventually the electric wires on the floor gave up and the whole system died. It was around 9.30 pm, and very dark.
The garden was churned up by the machinery and, in parts, 20 cm deep in water, the house was taking in water at a rate similar to the Titanic. I lifted the electric cables out of the water, [NB I have since been told that that was a very stupid thing to do as I lifted them by hand and I was standing in a couple of inches of water] checked that they were unlikely to get any wetter, locked the house - God knows why I bothered - grabbed some clean undies, a toothbrush and my laptop and handbag and got in the car, praying that I would be able to get it out of the boggy mess that used to be the garden. With luck and a prayer I got out. I had been faced with a choice, a night in the caravan with no heating, lighting, phone or a night in a chambre d'hote. My first port of call was Judith and Kevin, who offered me a bed for the night and the offer was far too good to turn down. They're not without their own water-related problems. The water table is so high that their gite has water coming through the floor and their ceiling is leaking. A restless night, and not a happy one, but at least I had company and warmth.
Sunday started with the sun shining through the rain, for a while at least. I got up and went straightaway to the house, where things were looking [a little] better. I checked the fuse box but couldn't see anything that might help. After discussion with Judith and Kevin, and a look at their fuse box, I went back and had another try and voila, I managed to get everything working.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
More mud and rain
Darren came around this morning to tidy up and tell me that he's not really able to do anything else until the man turns up with the big digger. I knew it was going to happen but I felt really low. So I took myself off to see a man about a second hand above-ground pool. Complete with all accessories, filter and chemicals for 50 euro. Bought it! Chris can put it all together when he comes in May. God bless the internet!
I then went to see someone who had given me a load of cardboard last week but she was out and by then I was cold, windswept and grumpy so I thought I had better eat. I went to a little restaurant that Chris and I sometimes use but the food was just OK and the service was the same, don't think I'll go there again. I had intended to go to the Laundrette again as I seem to have anther bag of smelly, muddy clothes but I couldn't face it so I went home, unloaded all the pool stuff and decided to have a cuppa and a sleep to make up for all the hours I've missed in the past couple of nights. I was just settling down when a chap arrives chez moi with a box. It's the plants I've ordered, which got here in double-quick time precipitating a crisis as they are rootballs and not in pots and the beds aren't ready and the soil is to heavy for me to lift. I dragged myself to 3 shops to try and buy small plant pots, just plastic or degradable ones and eventually found some in the fourth shop. So when I got home I opened up the house and got a bag of compost. I had intended to pot them in the house but it was freezing so I decided to do it in the caravan, white carpet or no white carpet. [Don't worry, Chris, the carpet hasn't actually been white for over 2 weeks]. I was just getting dragging a bag of compost from the house to the caravan when the phone rang and it was Jeremy who is the man with the big digger[!] who wanted to come and look at the job. I managed to get hold of Darren and let him know so he raced back from wherever while I kept Jeremy entertained in the meantime with fascinating stories of how I managed to find myself living in a freezing cold caravan etc etc.
Upshot is that Jeremy thinks he can do it at the beginning of next week so that means there won't be too much of a delay. Now all we've got to do is find out how much it's going to cost.
Returning to the plants, I realised that the pots I'd bought were too small so I hared off to the shop again, got there just before it closed to find that they don't have any bigger ones AT ALL. So I swallowed my resentment at living in this backwater and drove 25 kilometres to a garden centre where eventually I found some plastic plant pots. Yay! Drove 25 km back, made a jacket potato and sat looking at 22 very sad looking plants and a giant bag of compost which were together taking up almost the entire kitchen floor. Had a hissy fit and threw the bag of compost outside.
I looked at the long-term weather forecast. Apparently the sun is due to shine a week next Sunday. Honest! I think I'm going to go to bed. It's all getting too much for me.
Tomorrow's a new day and I need to sleep.
I then went to see someone who had given me a load of cardboard last week but she was out and by then I was cold, windswept and grumpy so I thought I had better eat. I went to a little restaurant that Chris and I sometimes use but the food was just OK and the service was the same, don't think I'll go there again. I had intended to go to the Laundrette again as I seem to have anther bag of smelly, muddy clothes but I couldn't face it so I went home, unloaded all the pool stuff and decided to have a cuppa and a sleep to make up for all the hours I've missed in the past couple of nights. I was just settling down when a chap arrives chez moi with a box. It's the plants I've ordered, which got here in double-quick time precipitating a crisis as they are rootballs and not in pots and the beds aren't ready and the soil is to heavy for me to lift. I dragged myself to 3 shops to try and buy small plant pots, just plastic or degradable ones and eventually found some in the fourth shop. So when I got home I opened up the house and got a bag of compost. I had intended to pot them in the house but it was freezing so I decided to do it in the caravan, white carpet or no white carpet. [Don't worry, Chris, the carpet hasn't actually been white for over 2 weeks]. I was just getting dragging a bag of compost from the house to the caravan when the phone rang and it was Jeremy who is the man with the big digger[!] who wanted to come and look at the job. I managed to get hold of Darren and let him know so he raced back from wherever while I kept Jeremy entertained in the meantime with fascinating stories of how I managed to find myself living in a freezing cold caravan etc etc.
Upshot is that Jeremy thinks he can do it at the beginning of next week so that means there won't be too much of a delay. Now all we've got to do is find out how much it's going to cost.
Returning to the plants, I realised that the pots I'd bought were too small so I hared off to the shop again, got there just before it closed to find that they don't have any bigger ones AT ALL. So I swallowed my resentment at living in this backwater and drove 25 kilometres to a garden centre where eventually I found some plastic plant pots. Yay! Drove 25 km back, made a jacket potato and sat looking at 22 very sad looking plants and a giant bag of compost which were together taking up almost the entire kitchen floor. Had a hissy fit and threw the bag of compost outside.
I looked at the long-term weather forecast. Apparently the sun is due to shine a week next Sunday. Honest! I think I'm going to go to bed. It's all getting too much for me.
Tomorrow's a new day and I need to sleep.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
The worst day so far.
It got off to a bad start as several very heavy showers during the night prevented me getting a decent night's sleep. I was fed up as I waited for the dumper driver [due 8.30, arrived 7.20 and didn't come to get his money]. I tried preparing the 40 metre bed but the ground is so wet it's like clay. I had to give up as my boots were too heavy to walk in. So I glooped and sloshed my way back to the caravan, very despondent.
The dumper driver brought another skip, which we hadn't asked for and I washed my wellies and got water in them.
By 9am I was ready to crawl back into bed. Thought I'd try looking on the bright side.
The good things in my life:
1. the caravan is waterproof and windproof.
2. this can't go on forever.
3. Beth's doing well
Oh well, that didn't take long.
When Darren and Stuart turned up, the weather was diabolical again so they came in the caravan for a cuppa. Things are always better when there's someone to chat to. But unfortunately it looks like they're going to have to desert the job as the site is pretty much unworkable, particularly as Darren has to re-lay the cement terrace once the micro station is in place. The 15-day weather forecast is, basically, rain and more rain with some showers and a few storms.
I braved the temperamental shower and did feel a lot better after a good clean up. Headed out to the hypermarket to stock up and to the bank to stock up! At midday in Ste Foy la Grande it was 7degrees. That's not even a daytime temperature unless you're in an Arctic region. Maybe that's it. Perhaps I'm in the wrong country. I went for lunch at the usual restaurant, where I was greeted as an old friend and he enquired after Chris's whereabouts and wished me Bon Courage as I left.
But we did have half an hour's sunshine later when I ran out and took these photos of the terrace being dismantled.
It will eventually run the whole length of the front of the house, but only 1 metre wide.
The demolition is practically complete and tidied up, despite the appalling conditions. They have worked really hard and Darren has often worked late in the evening but the weather has made it really difficult for them.
A brief burst of sunlight in the early evening meant that I could go out and shovel organic manure into the raised beds, oh bliss... not!!
My hands are all blistered, my toenails are falling off, everything aches. I want to go home.
The dumper driver brought another skip, which we hadn't asked for and I washed my wellies and got water in them.
By 9am I was ready to crawl back into bed. Thought I'd try looking on the bright side.
The good things in my life:
1. the caravan is waterproof and windproof.
2. this can't go on forever.
3. Beth's doing well
Oh well, that didn't take long.
When Darren and Stuart turned up, the weather was diabolical again so they came in the caravan for a cuppa. Things are always better when there's someone to chat to. But unfortunately it looks like they're going to have to desert the job as the site is pretty much unworkable, particularly as Darren has to re-lay the cement terrace once the micro station is in place. The 15-day weather forecast is, basically, rain and more rain with some showers and a few storms.
I braved the temperamental shower and did feel a lot better after a good clean up. Headed out to the hypermarket to stock up and to the bank to stock up! At midday in Ste Foy la Grande it was 7degrees. That's not even a daytime temperature unless you're in an Arctic region. Maybe that's it. Perhaps I'm in the wrong country. I went for lunch at the usual restaurant, where I was greeted as an old friend and he enquired after Chris's whereabouts and wished me Bon Courage as I left.
But we did have half an hour's sunshine later when I ran out and took these photos of the terrace being dismantled.
It will eventually run the whole length of the front of the house, but only 1 metre wide.
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| One day, this will be half my kitchen |
A brief burst of sunlight in the early evening meant that I could go out and shovel organic manure into the raised beds, oh bliss... not!!
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| This one's for Chris showing the area where the pine, bramble and pyracantha [which he hated] have been removed |
My hands are all blistered, my toenails are falling off, everything aches. I want to go home.
Monday, April 23, 2012
My car's anniversary
Today's our anniversary, one whole month with my own little car. Yay!!
I was woken up by the bad tempered dumper driver. I knew that I knew him but couldn't remember who he was. After a couple of embarrassing minutes, he dropped the skip and left.
The plumber arrived, looked at the tap and left without a word but he was back within the hour to replace it. Manure arrived, man came to clean the old fosse so that Darren can decommision it [after the new one arrives....]. There was a drama with this as he said he couldn't possibly bring his lorry onto the garden as it is so full of shit that it is incredibly heavy and the ground is too soft. Eventually parked his lorry at the front and ran a pipe around to the fosse. We always knew he would but the shoulder shrugging and deep sighing are things that just have to be got through!
So far, not a bad day except the guy didn't turn up to give us a quote for the big digger and Mr bad tempered dumper driver didn't come back til late afternoon to take the full skip and he didn't leave us an empty one. He also made a drama out of the whole thing by saying that the skip was too full and therefore too heavy. Cue for more shoulder shrugging and sighing. He loaded it fine! Quelle surprise! He finally returned with an empty skip and said he would be back at 8.30am tomorrow to collect it. I think Darren and Stuart just wanted to get rid of everything so they agreed.
I was intending to prepare the 40 metre bed for the imminent arrival of the Lavateria plants but it was too damn wet and cold. I didn't achieve much at all apart from overcoming my conviction that fires will do something nasty the minute your back is turned, which meant that I could run a big fire in the house and a bonfire in the garden in the morning.
The sun finally came out for a little while in the early evening, just a few minutes to encourage us to think that maybe the weather was turning, but then the rain came back with a vengeance. It's really difficult to hear anything in a caravan during the driving rain so DVDs and podcasts were out of the question. I snuggled up with a book.
Darren was out there til after 7, getting all the rubble in the skip. I hope the weather's better tomorrow because I am going to have to work in the garden.
I was woken up by the bad tempered dumper driver. I knew that I knew him but couldn't remember who he was. After a couple of embarrassing minutes, he dropped the skip and left.
The plumber arrived, looked at the tap and left without a word but he was back within the hour to replace it. Manure arrived, man came to clean the old fosse so that Darren can decommision it [after the new one arrives....]. There was a drama with this as he said he couldn't possibly bring his lorry onto the garden as it is so full of shit that it is incredibly heavy and the ground is too soft. Eventually parked his lorry at the front and ran a pipe around to the fosse. We always knew he would but the shoulder shrugging and deep sighing are things that just have to be got through!
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| Bit of male bonding before the fosse is cleaned out |
So far, not a bad day except the guy didn't turn up to give us a quote for the big digger and Mr bad tempered dumper driver didn't come back til late afternoon to take the full skip and he didn't leave us an empty one. He also made a drama out of the whole thing by saying that the skip was too full and therefore too heavy. Cue for more shoulder shrugging and sighing. He loaded it fine! Quelle surprise! He finally returned with an empty skip and said he would be back at 8.30am tomorrow to collect it. I think Darren and Stuart just wanted to get rid of everything so they agreed.
I was intending to prepare the 40 metre bed for the imminent arrival of the Lavateria plants but it was too damn wet and cold. I didn't achieve much at all apart from overcoming my conviction that fires will do something nasty the minute your back is turned, which meant that I could run a big fire in the house and a bonfire in the garden in the morning.
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| The view from the caravan 2 weeks ago. |
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| More or less same view today |
The sun finally came out for a little while in the early evening, just a few minutes to encourage us to think that maybe the weather was turning, but then the rain came back with a vengeance. It's really difficult to hear anything in a caravan during the driving rain so DVDs and podcasts were out of the question. I snuggled up with a book.
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| So, more rubble to dispose of |
Sunday, April 22, 2012
A quiet weekend in the country
Despite a healthy [or unhealthy] dose of alcohol on Friday evening, I didn't sleep well so Saturday morning I opened the curtains and watched the sky lighten and listened to the rain on the caravan and the birds singing in a determinedly joyful way. I wondered whether I had woken up at Glastonbury, boggy fields, mud up to my knees and debris everywhere. It looks like every photo I have ever seen of Glastonbury, minus the music and drugs. Even I know that my collection of 2 CDs does not amount to a music fest. In addition, my bloody arthritis is getting worse. The weekend was a mixture of a sudden burst of housekeeping, taking my bag of smelly muddy clothes to the laundrette, collecting cardboard, and completing distribution of said cardboard in the raised beds in the middle of a downpour [this done in my mac and wellies over my pyjamas, which goes to show that living in the middle of nowhere can have its advantages].
I could have lit a big fire in the house or I could have read through some of my gardening books or I could have done some cooking but I did none of those things. I slobbed. I did briefly visit Joris and Patricia for a coffee. But basically, it was a 'nothing' weekend for me.
The Poney Club held a spectacle on Saturday night, starting at 9.30, with a band. I put cotton wool in my ears, took a tablet and didn't wake til morning.
Darren didn't come on Saturday as it would have been almost impossible to move the digger around. I asked him to build me an Ark next week if the rain doesn't hold off a bit. On Sunday he took the pine roots out, although, unsurprisingly, it was not without its problems but he managed most of them.
At the time of writing, I am expecting that tomorrow I will see Darren and Stuart, the plumber, the arrival of the skip, a load of manure and possibly receive some plants by mail order. I am confident that I will see Darren and Stuart but let's see about everything else...............
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| There they are, just waiting for some horse manure |
I could have lit a big fire in the house or I could have read through some of my gardening books or I could have done some cooking but I did none of those things. I slobbed. I did briefly visit Joris and Patricia for a coffee. But basically, it was a 'nothing' weekend for me.
The Poney Club held a spectacle on Saturday night, starting at 9.30, with a band. I put cotton wool in my ears, took a tablet and didn't wake til morning.
Darren didn't come on Saturday as it would have been almost impossible to move the digger around. I asked him to build me an Ark next week if the rain doesn't hold off a bit. On Sunday he took the pine roots out, although, unsurprisingly, it was not without its problems but he managed most of them.
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| Oh good! Yet another bonfire |
Friday, April 20, 2012
It felt gross...................
Weather continues cold and showery with the odd sunny spell. This morning it was so cold that my arthritis made my hands zing, not in a good way.
I continued with my cardboard hunt and headed off to the supermarkets and the wine shop before going to pick some up from a chap who had offered it via the Internet [honest!]. Anyway, he lived quite a way away but I thought it would be a good opportunity to have a drive around and it was quite pleasant. However when I got to his house, which was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, 8 kms from the nearest village, it looked very rundown and overrun with cats. I wandered around, knocking on some of the windows and eventually found him. He was old, very grubby,in filthy clothes, unshaven with weepy eyes and there was something terribly unsavory about him. I was really spooked and with every passing minute, the feeling got worse. I was very aware that no one on earth knew where I was, my nearest relative was 8 hours away and I probably wouldn't be missed for a long while if I disappeared. He wanted me to drive my car around the back but I said that I didn't want to and just kept loading up the cardboard. My unease grew - I just don't know why - after all I'm a bit long in the tooth to be kept as a sex slave!!
I took my cellphone from the car and started talking into it as if I were talking to Darren, saying 'Yes, I'll be back as soon as I can. You know where I am, I'm about 8 kms from xxxx on the road to xx, picking up cardboard.' Then I put down the phone and had a bit of a rant about builders. Despite repeated requests to come into the house for coffee, I refused, saying that I had to get back by 12 or Darren was going to walk off the job, rolling my eyes at the general stroppiness of English workmen. I revved up and rushed off. It felt gross!!
Poor Darren was slogging away at the house, totally unaware of course. But we did laugh about it later. I said 'Maybe I overreacted, maybe I'm a bit mad.' and he replied 'Well, yes but that doesn't make you a bad person.' which was not my preferred response. Perhaps he's been taking lessons from Chris.
Anyway, back in the real world.. Seal does not do it for me after Adele, although I bloody love some of the tracks. So in the car, I'm listening to Adele again.
I bought some wine for emergencies, like thirst, celebrating the weekend, etc etc and then I went out for lunch as I thought I deserved a treat. I went to the same restaurant as last week as the food is always good and this time the waiter treated me like a long-lost buddy and then asked if I were on my own. Resisting the temptation to do a John Cleese and look around in amazement as if my coterie of hangers-on has just disappeared into thin air, I agreed with him that I was, indeed, on my own. The food was delicious and I relaxed after my overwrought morning.
The afternoon was less exciting and more productive. We received a very official looking letter from the Prefet, which always turns the stomach to water, but in fact it was just to say that we don't need permission to demolish the 4 rooms that we have just demolished. Lucky break! I smashed some more tiles in the potager, spread the cardboard and paper over the tiles in 3 of the 6 beds. It was backbreaking work but I guess it's good exercise. Darren has been digging away and started the hole for the micro station, next to the caravan. It's not quite as bad as he thought it might be but we're still going to have to get in a majorly enormous bit of kit to deal with the over-engineered paths behind the house!
I visited both sets of neighbours to ask if they minded us having the machines working on Sunday. Mme B was fine about it and also donated some old newspapers for the potager and showed me the tent which has been blowing around her land since last Sunday and has now settled in a valley. Didier was also fine about it but he was a bit worried because Chris had given him the impression that we were going to plant a hedge on the boundary. I explained that we are planting lavateria which grow to about 1 metre and he was a lot happier. I also explained that Chris knows buggerall about gardening. We had a little chat and I found myself again doing all those funny little French shrugs and signals [easier than trying to speak the language!!]. Actually, things must be improving. I no longer wonder whether they will understand me, I wonder how they will react to what I say.
I phoned the plumber and left a message asking him to put in a new tap on the front of the house as the present one leaks like buggery and he phoned back later and said he would be around ce soir
to have a look and would do the job on Monday. However recent experiences with this plumber left me less than convinced that he would turn up. In the event, experience triumphed over optimism!!
Around 6pm the weather degenerated, which is good for the garden, especially for the cardboard, which needs to mulch down. [I must say this organic business changes your view about a lot of things]. It's not so good for me as it got colder and I couldn't hear Radio 4's finest so I opened some wine... Not so good either for the Poney Club who are rehearsing for their spectacle which takes place tomorrow night. I wouldn't mind going but it doesn't start til 9pm so think earplugs are a more likely option.
The weather improved a bit and faced with a choice of evening activities, it was either to have some wine or develop my mental health issues so I decided to make life easier for my immediate family [long-term] and go for the alcohol option.
Weather forecast for tomorrow - grim!
I continued with my cardboard hunt and headed off to the supermarkets and the wine shop before going to pick some up from a chap who had offered it via the Internet [honest!]. Anyway, he lived quite a way away but I thought it would be a good opportunity to have a drive around and it was quite pleasant. However when I got to his house, which was in the middle of absolutely nowhere, 8 kms from the nearest village, it looked very rundown and overrun with cats. I wandered around, knocking on some of the windows and eventually found him. He was old, very grubby,in filthy clothes, unshaven with weepy eyes and there was something terribly unsavory about him. I was really spooked and with every passing minute, the feeling got worse. I was very aware that no one on earth knew where I was, my nearest relative was 8 hours away and I probably wouldn't be missed for a long while if I disappeared. He wanted me to drive my car around the back but I said that I didn't want to and just kept loading up the cardboard. My unease grew - I just don't know why - after all I'm a bit long in the tooth to be kept as a sex slave!!
I took my cellphone from the car and started talking into it as if I were talking to Darren, saying 'Yes, I'll be back as soon as I can. You know where I am, I'm about 8 kms from xxxx on the road to xx, picking up cardboard.' Then I put down the phone and had a bit of a rant about builders. Despite repeated requests to come into the house for coffee, I refused, saying that I had to get back by 12 or Darren was going to walk off the job, rolling my eyes at the general stroppiness of English workmen. I revved up and rushed off. It felt gross!!
Poor Darren was slogging away at the house, totally unaware of course. But we did laugh about it later. I said 'Maybe I overreacted, maybe I'm a bit mad.' and he replied 'Well, yes but that doesn't make you a bad person.' which was not my preferred response. Perhaps he's been taking lessons from Chris.
Anyway, back in the real world.. Seal does not do it for me after Adele, although I bloody love some of the tracks. So in the car, I'm listening to Adele again.
I bought some wine for emergencies, like thirst, celebrating the weekend, etc etc and then I went out for lunch as I thought I deserved a treat. I went to the same restaurant as last week as the food is always good and this time the waiter treated me like a long-lost buddy and then asked if I were on my own. Resisting the temptation to do a John Cleese and look around in amazement as if my coterie of hangers-on has just disappeared into thin air, I agreed with him that I was, indeed, on my own. The food was delicious and I relaxed after my overwrought morning.
The afternoon was less exciting and more productive. We received a very official looking letter from the Prefet, which always turns the stomach to water, but in fact it was just to say that we don't need permission to demolish the 4 rooms that we have just demolished. Lucky break! I smashed some more tiles in the potager, spread the cardboard and paper over the tiles in 3 of the 6 beds. It was backbreaking work but I guess it's good exercise. Darren has been digging away and started the hole for the micro station, next to the caravan. It's not quite as bad as he thought it might be but we're still going to have to get in a majorly enormous bit of kit to deal with the over-engineered paths behind the house!
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| Darren, the demanding demolition man!! Taken from the caravan |
I phoned the plumber and left a message asking him to put in a new tap on the front of the house as the present one leaks like buggery and he phoned back later and said he would be around ce soir
to have a look and would do the job on Monday. However recent experiences with this plumber left me less than convinced that he would turn up. In the event, experience triumphed over optimism!!
Around 6pm the weather degenerated, which is good for the garden, especially for the cardboard, which needs to mulch down. [I must say this organic business changes your view about a lot of things]. It's not so good for me as it got colder and I couldn't hear Radio 4's finest so I opened some wine... Not so good either for the Poney Club who are rehearsing for their spectacle which takes place tomorrow night. I wouldn't mind going but it doesn't start til 9pm so think earplugs are a more likely option.
The weather improved a bit and faced with a choice of evening activities, it was either to have some wine or develop my mental health issues so I decided to make life easier for my immediate family [long-term] and go for the alcohol option.
Weather forecast for tomorrow - grim!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Bad news or disaster?
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| The view from the caravan today |
A lot of demolition got done today. The weather continued to fluctuate between heavy showers and warm sunshine. The wind continues cold.
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| The back rooms come down |
I spent the day either smashing up roof tiles in the raised beds with a sledgehammer or searching in all the supermarkets and the local dump for cardboard to use in the very same organic raised beds. Consequently my arms are feeling very odd and I am feeling very rejected as apparently asking for cardboard rates on approximately the same level as asking for drugs - and it elicits more or less the same shocked response. I also phoned the dumper people several times on Darren's behalf but the lady in the office had definitely taken against Darren and was determined to be as unhelpful as possible.
On the plus side, I doubled the size of my CD collection when my new CD arrived. Sorry, Adele, you are not the only game in town any more. The Seal CD was not as jaw droppingly spine tingling as Adele's masterpiece but his rendition of Stand By Me was pretty wonderful.
I did manage to get one of the raised beds covered in paper and cardboard in between heavy showers.
Darren didn't leave til around 7pm, partly because he wanted to get a lot of the demolition done and partly because he discovered that the floors in the extension are all around 20 cm thick with steel reinforcing rods all the way through. His machine cannot possibly deal with that. This has led him to believe that the floors in the back rooms are VERY thick reinforced concrete and could not be dug up without the use of such a large machine that we could have to knock the walls down to enable it to enter the house.
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| Everyone's gone home to reflect on today's findings |
We can deal with the interior problems, maybe by installing the underfloor heating on top of the existing floor - the ceilings are high enough - or at least we can consider when we know the exact state of the floor. But today's problem means that Darren can either run the drains around the outside of the demolished rooms or we can hire a proper mega enormous bit of kit and get all those external floors up now and he can do the job properly. We are talking a few thousand euros so a big decision.
So all I had to do now was explain the situation to Chris in Angola....
I had intended to go out and have a meal tonight but I wasn't really in the mood, so I made myself something from the freezer and sat silently in the gloom, the noise from my BBC podcast drowned out by the rain. I ran out of wine. Not the best evening of my life.....
As they say in the film, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, 'It'll be all right in the end, if it's not all right, it's not the end'
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